The Instructor
by mabelreid
Summary: During a routine workout in the gymnasium at Quantico, Reid encounters someone that draws him out of his post-prison shell. She has secrets of her own that will explode into a life and death struggle for an innocent life.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: see my profile**_

 _ **A/n hello everyone. The time frame for this story begins after Reid's first round of enforced leave and teaching. It will take place in it's entirety before the season 13 finale. Please enjoy and thank you in advance for your kind support. As always, many thanks to my brilliant beta and friend, REIDFANATIC. Happy Spring, everyone.**_

Spencer Reid collected his messenger bag, and several file folders he'd used for his teaching presentation. He turned for the door leading from the auditorium and stopped. He'd got through his first teaching experience without many mistakes or metaphorical bruising to his ego. He wanted to look at the empty room with its chairs, desks and the steps that led down the half-moon shaped seating area. He scanned the table and the podium in the teaching area at the front of the room. The whiteboard behind him and the projector bolted to the ceiling gave the room a modern feel, but otherwise, it reminded him of the day he'd gone to find Gideon and pull his mentor back into the field.

" _Looks like medical leave's over, boss."_

He almost heard the echo of his voice from nearly fourteen years ago, and he shivered. The memory of Gideon's face when he'd said the words seemed to penetrate deep into the place where he'd locked away the trauma of losing his sobriety, his prison time, and the kidnapping of his mother. He felt the lock begin to turn, as if that trauma were a living thing, trying to push past the barricade in his mind.

Reid focused his attention on the clean whiteboard and tried to slow his breathing. After several seconds, he felt the lockbox slam shut on the trauma. He let out a long, slow breath, and felt like he could leave the room. He forced himself not to consider that he might be repressing, which didn't bode well for his emotional or mental wellbeing. Instead, he shouldered his messenger bag and left the auditorium.

The silence in the hallways always amazed him. He sometimes forgot that he taught in the middle of a military base. He walked slowly down the hall and turned left instead of right at the next intersection. The decision to go to the gymnasium had become automatic since his release from prison. He passed several agents he recognized from the Bureau's anti-terrorist unit. As usual, they argued about their picks for the upcoming football games and ignored their surroundings. Spencer didn't slow or increase his pace as he tried to stay out their way.

When he entered the locker room, his nose wrinkled at the stench in the room, even after the maintenance staff cleaned. The pungent odor of sweat permeated the walls, Spencer thought and refused to vacate even with a thorough cleaning. He decided that the cleaning staff had a new cleaning solution and it reeked. It smelled as though someone had smeared every available surface with coconut oil. He _hated_ the smell of coconut oil! He blew out a breath, nearly gagged and turned toward the locker he'd inherited from Morgan when he'd left.

Morgan had assured him that he'd cleaned the locker, and he gave Spencer his padlock. "I don't need it anymore," he said. "I set up a workout room in the basement of my house. You take it and see if you can put on some muscle, pretty boy."

Spencer had taken the locker, reluctantly, and then ignored it until after his release from prison. Now, he used it religiously.

After changing into a pair of shorts, a tee-shirt, old socks and an even older pair of Converse running shoes, he entered the gymnasium. It was empty, except for one person, which startled him into halting in his tracks. He came at this time of the afternoon because through trial and error; he'd determined that this time of day meant an empty gym.

He stood just inside the huge room and tried to decide what to do. His old shyness and indecision held him tethered to the spot, like a horse tied to the hitching post in some dusty, backwoods town in the old west.

He set his teeth and surveyed the room with its treadmills in one corner, the huge practice mat for learning self-defense, weight-lifting equipment, and safety equipment in another corner of the room. The person he noticed worked with a heavy bag that hung in a third corner of the room, and _she_ didn't seem to notice he'd entered the room. Spencer could hear her fists pummeling the bag and the sound of her ragged breathing and the squeak of the rope that secured the bag.

Spencer shook himself impatiently. He'd go on the treadmill just as he did every day and go about his exercise routine. Why did it matter that another person used the same equipment? "You don't own it, remember," he said under his breath and nodded his head.

He marched to the nearest treadmill, stepped up and programmed it for a brisk walk. As he began to walk, the lockbox in his head began to slip open. No, that wasn't right, because he allowed it to open and show him all the memories he suppressed when teaching and when profiling. It swamped him, and he increased the speed on the treadmill. He tried to listen to the slap of his shoes on the moving belt, but the thud of his feet, couldn't drown out the sound of a fist smacking his gut, or of rough hands twisting his arms. He heard the echo of bones breaking, and flesh tearing. He heard the sound of terror, and his cry for it to stop, for someone to help him.

He realized that he ran instead of walked, and he breathed in harsh, ragged breaths that burned in his chest. Pain stabbed through his torso along the left side of his body, and he groaned aloud. He reached for the controls and stopped the treadmill. He stood, panting for breath and trying to hold back a scream of misery as more memories careened through his head.

 _You survived!_

 _I nearly killed six men._

 _You survived!_

Spencer bowed his head, put his hands to his ears, and squeezed his eyes shut. "Cross back over the line," he said through gritted teeth as sweat poured down his face and soaked his tee-shirt. "Cross. The. Line," he repeated and fought to slam the lid back on his mental lockbox.

Finally, the memories receded like the evening ocean tides. He stood up straight, reached for his water bottle, and downed half of it in long, noisy gulps. It tasted like ambrosia, and finally, he began to feel like he could put in some weight-lifting time. He reached for the towel he'd hung over the treadmill's hand rests and scrubbed at his face.

He turned around and nearly screamed in surprise. The heavy bag pummeling girl stood about five feet from him. She stared at him with something like curiosity in her eyes. She didn't speak to him, but turned, grabbed her towel, water bottle and walked from the gymnasium without a backward glance.

Spencer watched her walk away, and something like irritation flared in his chest. Why did she stare at him like he was an interesting bug, and then leave without a word? Where was common courtesy in her manner? Why not say, "Hey, you okay."

He shook his head and said to the empty room. "Why do you care?"

A good question, but he didn't have an answer because his head still whirled from trying to suppress the urge to scream in frustration at his continuing bouts of PTSS. He went to the rack holding free weights and began a set of bicep curls.

After another thirty minutes of weights and some cool down stretches, he hurried back to the locker room and a shower. He'd just finished dressing when Agent Anderson entered the room. "Hi doc," he greeted. Agent Anderson was the only agent outside the BAU that called him anything but Dr. Reid. Spencer liked him, and they'd become good friends over the last decade and a half.

"Hi, Rick. How are you?"

"I'm great. I'm getting in a quick workout before I go home."

"Me too."

"You like teaching."

"Yeah, it's more enjoyable than I thought, " Spencer admitted as he hefted his messenger bag and his gym bag full of dirty workout clothes and towels to his shoulder.

" I ran into Doc Lewis, and she said you let her sit in during a lecture. She said it was mesmerizing."

Spencer shrugged. "Friends have to compliment your work, right."

"Not true," Anderson countered. He slipped off his jacket and folded it neatly. "I've got a friend who doesn't believe in compliments. He says they make you complacent."

Spencer finally smiled. "Well, I was nervous teaching with Tara in attendance, but I'm glad she liked the class."

"Tara's the most honest person I know," Anderson said.

Spencer nodded. "Yes, that's true."

"You see the new self-defense instructor. She's hot," Anderson observed with a sparkle in his eyes. "If I wasn't engaged… well, I guess it doesn't hurt to look, right?"

"Sure," Spencer agreed and wondered who Rick meant by the new instructor. "I don't remember seeing her."

Anderson laughed as he pulled off his tie. "I guess not, or you'd remember her. She's tall, well-toned and she has eyes that look at all the guys like we're bugs she'd like to crush underfoot. You know what I mean."

"Yeah," Spencer said faintly and wondered if the girl in the gym was the new instructor.

"I asked around," Anderson continued as he removed his shoes. "She's a transfer from the Baltimore office, and her name is Georgia Blue if you can believe that. They say she likes to be called George."

Spencer simply stared at his friend. Georgia Blue? It sounded like a lounge singer or a stripper. If she were the same woman, it didn't fit her at all. The woman he'd seen was tall, with a well-toned physique and eyes the color of the sky in summer. Her hair, the looked like ripened wheat and had resided in a ponytail off her face. She didn't have a conventionally beautiful face, but it was an attractive one, with a wide mouth, almond-shaped eyes, and a long nose. She had high cheekbones and a sculpted chin with a dent just below her lower lip.

"Doc," said Anderson.

"Oh, sorry. I was thinking about my last class."

"You need to get out. Listen, you want to go for drinks tomorrow night. The game is on the big screen. I know you don't like football. I thought we catch a basketball game. Phoenix is playing the Utah Jazz. What do you think?"

Spencer agreed because the thought of sitting alone on a Friday night bothered him in a way he couldn't explain. Why not sip a cold beer in a room with a bunch of rabid basketball fans?. Maybe he'd drown out the memories of ninety-three days in hell that still haunted him every time he let the lockbox in his mind open and spill its contents into his consciousness."

"Sure," he said. "Sounds good."

"Great, I'll text you the details. Have a good one, doc."

Anderson, in shorts and a tee-shirt, hurried to the gym, as Spencer made his way out and into the late afternoon sunshine. His talk with Anderson had made him late, and if he didn't hurry, he'd run into the middle of rush hour traffic.

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Supervisory Special Agent Georgia Blue strode briskly toward her office on the same level as the gymnasium. She's showered and changed from the blue FBI tee-shirt, and the grey sweatpants she wore for personal workouts. She shut the door to her office as soon as she entered and turned the lock. The workout hadn't helped, and she blamed the second agent who barged into the gym without so much as a word and interrupted her concentration.

 _Yes, because the gymnasium is your personal property. He should be ashamed._

Georgia sighed and tried to shut out the sarcastic voice in her head. It was true that she liked to workout alone, but after all, she'd broken pattern and gone to the gym in the afternoon instead of the morning because of the early morning meeting she'd had with her immediate supervisor. SSA Marvin Halloway liked to inconvenience her whenever possible.

 _What else is new? You've dealt with his kind all your life. Suck it up!_

Georgia, now dressed in grey pinstriped slacks, a white blouse, and a matching suit coat, took her seat at her desk and began to go through cadet status reports. Three new cadets concerned her because they refused to listen to her. She'd have to get used to male cadets either dismissing her or to trying to bed her. Still, these three were different than the other jerks in the class. They were openly hostile and seemed to band together to make her life difficult.

"You can handle them, or you wouldn't have signed on at the FBI."

Georgia sighed again and thought about new strategies to deal with the cadets. She could make examples of them in front of the class, but such tactics only made sense as a last resort, and she hadn't reached the last resort, yet.

She signed off on the reports and looked at her watch. She sighed and let her eyes drift to the photograph on her table. The child smiling at her from the picture was three years old. He had large eyes the color of melted chocolate and wavy brown hair. She reached out and touched the picture. Her fingers brushed the glass cover over the photo, and she shivered.

 _Andy!_

She pushed away thoughts of the small boy and picked up her bag. She unlocked her office door, opened it, stepped through, shut it and locked it again. She'd find a place with low lights and good tequila, then maybe she could forget the stranger in the gymnasium and his eyes that reminded her of Andy.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: see my profile**_

" _You need to grow eyes in the back of your head. I can get to you anywhere."_

 _The words, punctuated with the slap of hands on flesh, echoed in Spencer's mind as he slept. His body twisted away from the memories as if the punches and slaps happened in real time. His stomach clenched, and pain roiled through his ribs. "No," he muttered, then screamed. "Someone, help me."_

" _No one's gonna help you," said a voice he didn't recognize. "you're dead already, you don't know it yet."_

" _No, I'm not dead. I'm alive. Morgan, help me please."_

" _Your friends don't care about you. They think you're weak and stupid."_

" _No…" He thrashed against the hands that held him down on a thin prison mattress._

 _Cloth covered his nose and mouth. He tried to scream, to yank his arms from the hands that held them behind his back, but the strength of his captor exceeded his ability to resist. His lungs burned as he tried to breathe through the tightly held rag. He shook his head as hands pummeled him and pain slammed through him from head to toe. His head began to swim and black dots to flow across his vision like skeeter bugs on the placid surface of a lake. His heart seemed to slow down and thump so hard he felt it in his feet. His eyes began to roll into the back of his head, and his legs began to buckle as another fist smashed into his kidneys._

" _Stop," he screamed, but the scream echoed only in his head. He couldn't speak or even form a coherent thought as his lungs begged for air and his body began to shut down. He fell, despite the hands that held him close. It felt like he fell forever into a black void that became endless.  
_

He burst out of sleep as a man breaking through the surface of the ocean depths. He coughed, gasped for breath, and held one hand over his gut as it throbbed in time with his galloping heart. He blinked the sweat from his eyes and swung around to let his feet hit his living room floor. Once again, he'd fallen asleep on his couch, instead of going to bed.

"Stop it," he commanded. "Don't _do_ this again!"

He wiped at his forehead with a shaking hand and shook his head. He had to remember that a year had passed since his arrest in Mexico. "It's natural to feel this way."

No, the platitudes he told himself did _not_ help.

 _Remember that you've made it through a year of sobriety._

 _It'd be ten years if not for Cat Adams._

He clenched a fist, and let his anger have full reign. That bitch! If only he could – no, Spencer ground his teeth together. He would _not_ let her live in his head. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out until the anger abated and Cat retreated into the recess of his unconscious mind.

He needed to get his life back under control now that he was profiling again, and now that AD Linda Barnes had the BAU in her sights. The team needed him! No, he needed _them_ , he realized with a jolt and some anger at his inability to handle it alone.

He opened his eyes and stood. Only one option presented itself to him to push back the demons that crowded into his head. He went to his bedroom and slammed the door.

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Spencer left the meeting area of the BCC after talking to several friends and partaking of the decent coffee and cookies someone always provided for them. He hurried through the lobby and was about to leave through the glass doors when his phone beeped.

"Hey, Morgan," he greeted happily.

"Hey, pretty boy. You okay."

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be," Spencer wondered as he passed out of the door and began to walk toward the train station.

"I had a feeling," Morgan said. "It's been a year."

"I know that," Spencer said sharply, then exhaled a breath. "Look, Morgan, I'm sorry. It's been a rough couple of days. The team's in trouble, and I have to deal with bad memories and – anyway, I don't want to talk about it."

"I know some of what's happening, Spencer. Penelope called me yesterday. She's more upset than I've seen since, well, I can't think of the last time she cried like that. I'm thinking of hopping a plane and –"

" _No_ ," Spencer interrupted. "You need to take care of your family, Derek. We'll deal with AD Barnes on our own, okay."

"I still have contacts in the Bureau. I can do some digging for you."

"Won't help," Spencer denied. "She's the one who broke up the IRT team. She's better connected than you, Morgan. I don't want to involve you in our problems."

"Hey, we're family."

"Yes, we are, which is why I want you to stay away, Derek."

He heard his "brother," sigh in frustration. "I'll leave it for now, but you _promise_ to call me if you need me. You hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you. Same goes for you."

"Sure, kid."

"Hey, how're Hank and Savannah?"

"Great," Morgan enthused. and Reid smiled for the first time in days at his friend's excitement. "I love spending time with him now that he can walk like a pro. He loves to play hide and seek."

Spencer grinned so hard his mouth hurt. "I wish I could see that."

"You could if you'd take some time and come see us. How about it, Spencer? Take a few days and visit us."

"I wish I could, but I don't dare ask for it right now. I'm sure Emily will sign off on vacation, but AD Barnes might move in, and I need to be here if she does."

"I understand, but promise me you'll fly out soon, Spencer. Hank misses you."

Spencer shook his head at Morgan's inability to say that _he_ missed him. Well, that was okay because some things don't need to be said. Morgan had taught him that lesson, and he believed it to be so.

"How's teaching," Morgan changed the subject as Spencer reached the train station and hurried down the steps.

"Fine, good, I like it, I guess."

"Wow, that was noncommittal," Morgan teased.

"Funny. It's great; it's just that it's different from profiling. I'm glad I'm back with the team, especially now."

"I'm glad too. If anyone can find a way to shut down Barnes, it's you."

"Not this time," Spencer disagreed. "I think this time we'll need luck more than profiling skill."

The announcement overhead hailed the arrival of the green line train in two minutes. "Look, I have to go, Derek. My train's almost here, and I don't want to talk to you while I'm sitting surrounded by strangers."

"Understood. I'll talk to you later, pretty boy."

Spencer pocketed his phone and began to pace the platform. Finally, the train pulled into the station with a clash of steel on steel and the whine of brakes. After a pause, the doors whooshed open, and Reid boarded. He found a seat, put down his messenger bag and removed a thick book he'd taken from the library. It was long enough to keep him busy until he reached his stop.

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SSA Georgia Blue finished the last of her morning workout. She looked at her watch and blew out a breath. She'd have time for a quick shower and change to street clothes. She didn't have a class that morning, but she did have more paperwork.

She hurried to her office, twenty minutes later and shut the door. A stack of files lay on her desk, but she ignored them for the pulsing message light on her phone. The message was from her boss reminding her that she had a new class of recruits the next day. Why he felt the need to remind her before the start of new training, she didn't know.

George picked up her stack of files and began to sort them for filing. She looked at the top three and smiled in grim satisfaction. The three students who'd given her trouble last month had all washed out of the program, due to test scores and an inability to pass the final psychological testing. Not that she was surprised, but it was gratifying to know the men wouldn't be in positions of authority with the FBI. The last things they needed were badges and guns.

She finished sorting her paperwork and sat back at her desk. She should refine her "Welcome to Law Enforcement," speech, but she couldn't concentrate. Instead, her mind went back to photo on her desk. Tears formed in her eyes as she looked at the sweet little boy, a small child gone forever.

Redness clouded her eyes, the color of blood, his blood on her hands. It was her fault that he was gone. She made a fatal mistake, and now, she'd never see Andy again.

"God, what have I done," she whispered to the photograph as her fingers touched the cold glass. "If only…"

She shook her head and sat up straight. She stood, strode out of her office, locked the door, and decided it was time for a cup of coffee and maybe some unhealthy sugary snack.

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Reid hurried down the corridor to the cafeteria and joined the line for coffee. Mondays always brought out the worst in people, especially FBI agents. He heard snippets of conversation from other agents that ranged from, "How was your weekend," to "I hate Mondays because…" Yeah, he wasn't a fan, but at least he was back to work with the BAU even with the looming threat of AD Barnes.

Someone walked up behind him, and he turned out of reflex and lingering PTSS. His eyebrows went up, and he had to try not to stare. He turned back to the line ahead of him and thought, "I should say hello."

No, why say hello to an agent he didn't know except that she'd seen him in a moment of vulnerability and pain, and she'd just stared at him before walking away. Obviously, she had no sense of common courtesy. He supposed it was to be expected considering she headed up the defense classes at FLETC. As a woman teaching other women and men to defend themselves against all threats, she had to be tough. Anyway, what did he care if she was nice or not, it didn't matter to him?

Suddenly something slammed his back, and he stumbled forward and almost hit the agent standing in front of him. "What the hell," he said under his breath as his defenses went up and he whirled around to see _that_ agent talking to SSA Hernandez from white-collar crime.

"Sorry, "said the tall, Latina with long, black hair and dark brown eyes. "I tripped on something," she angled her head around. "Didn't mean to shove into you like that."

"Don't worry about it," said SSA Blue. "No harm, no foul."

Reid stared at her in disbelief. She appeared to know how to smile and to be nice to other human beings. "Something wrong," Georgia asked him as she turned back to the line which finally moved forward.

"No," he shrugged and turned around.

He tried to ignore the sensation of her eyes on his back but couldn't manage it, and he wondered why he cared. He finally obtained his much-needed coffee with more sugar than was wise. He paid for it and hurried away to the elevator and his desk. He hoped with all of his soul for a nice, complicated case to take his mind off his irrational reaction to SSA Georgia Blue.

It wasn't to be though because the elevator took its sweet time arriving at his floor. He heard the clip of high heels behind him and decided not to turn around. SSA Blue joined him, he could see her out of the corner of his eye. She didn't speak until they entered the elevator, which was empty much to Spencer's dismay. He hit the button for six, and she hit it for eight.

"Sorry," he heard next to him.

"Excuse me," he said and cursed his squeak.

"I said, I'm sorry for crashing into to you like that. It wasn't my fault."

"I know," he said curtly and resumed looking at the numbers over the door. Two more floors and he'd be free of her presence. Although, he noticed that she smelled faintly of lilacs, and he _liked_ the smell of lilacs. He took in a deep breath, then blew it out as his hands began to fidget with his coffee cup.

"You're SSA Dr. Reid, right," she asked him.

Reid blinked as the elevator reached the fifth floor. How did _she_ know his name?

"Yeah," he responded and cheered inside when he didn't squeak.

The elevator reached the sixth floor, and Reid said. "Excuse me," and hurried out before SSA Blue could speak. He refused to turn back to look at her and sighed when he heard the doors close.

"Hey, Reid," Matt and Luke greeted him as he nearly ran down the hallway. "Where's the fire?" Luke teased.

"What? Oh, I'm late I think."

"Nope, Rossi's late, but you're right on time, as usual."

"I wonder how he does it," Matt teased. "He's never late. Unlike me who can't get out the door without kisses from all the kids."

"You love it," Luke said.

Matt smirked. "Yes, I do."

"I've been late before," Reid put in, so he didn't have to think about SSA Blue and her perfume, and her attempt to be nice.

"Really," Luke said as they entered the bullpen.

"Yeah, more than once, I _am_ human."

"I wonder about that sometimes," Matt said, and they all laughed.

"It's true," Reid assured them. "Completely human."

They went to their desks, and Reid sighed with relief at the sight of his workload. He'd bury himself in it and forget about eyes the color of the sky in the summertime.


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't understand why you demanded that I arrive at 7 am," Spencer complained as soon as Garcia answered her door.

"Because I miss you."

Spencer looked around the room that never changed. The purple paint on the wall and every colorful accessory plainly said that a joyful woman reigned supreme in the space.

"Hey," Garcia snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes," he assured her. "I was looking around and thinking that I'm ecstatic that you never change."

Garcia smiled, but the smile didn't reach her dark eyes, covered by rectangular, blue-framed glasses. Instead, he saw unhappiness and irritation in their depths. "I'm happy you think so," Garcia said. "Unfortunately, I have to change my unique and fabulous look for my new job. Come with me and let me show you."

Garcia began to tug him toward her bedroom, but he planted his feet and resisted. "I'm not going into your bedroom, Garcia."

Garcia rolled her eyes, and as Reid hoped, amusement evicted irritation and sadness from them. "Please, I'm not interested in having my way with you, sweet cheeks, even if you _are_ adorable."

"I know," he said – and he realized how far he'd come in recognizing when someone teased him - that he didn't blush at her comment. "You're not remotely sexually attracted to me."

Garcia gaped at him. "What?"

"Remember, outside "Who-com," five years ago. We ran into Kevin and –"

"Right," Garcia interrupted. "I'm sorry, Reid. That was rude and inconsiderate."

Spencer held up his hands. "I'm glad you said it, and not me."

"Cute," Garcia smacked his arm.

"Ow…"

"Quit whining; I have serious problems to deal with today."

Reid shook his head and grinned at her. "What do you want me to do?"

Garcia opened her closet door and showed him her problem. "I'm supposed to adhere to the Cyber Crimes dress code. They all dress like rejects from an undertakers convention."

Reid almost laughed but managed to hide it by biting the inside of his cheek. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"They want me to wear somber colors, like brown and royal blue, or black. I can't take it, Reid. I _need_ my color."

"Garcia," he motioned her back to the living room. He sat, and she joined him. "It's going to be okay. We'll find some way to – "

"Don't tell me you'll find a way to fix this," Garcia waved her hand. "I've hacked as far as I can without setting off alarms, and I can't find anything to use against AD Barnes. She is squeaky clean and untouchable, as far as I can tell."

" _Everyone_ has something," Reid said, but in his heart, he knew Garcia had a point. "I'm sure you'll find it."

"Your faith in me makes my heart sigh, but alas, I fear we can't fix it this time."

"If that's true, then I propose that you and I have coffee together at least once a week outside of the FBI. I'm teaching now, so my schedule is evener. Let's set it up and keep the appointment no matter what."

"Okay," she sighed then smiled, a genuine smile that made his heart sing. "I think that's the best idea you've had in a long while, gorgeous gray-matter."

"Why did you call me, Garcia? Surely, you don't think I can give you fashion advice."

"I wanted to spend time with you, and I sense something is bothering you, other than the usual. You okay?"

Reid wanted to say no, but he couldn't make his mouth say the word. "I miss everyone, Garcia. I can't believe it's over, just like that."

"Yes, but there's something else, sweet cheeks. What is it?"

"I can't fool you," he said, and, his lips trembled as tears filled his eyes. "I thought I was okay, but I started to have nightmares again. I thought they were gone, but I guess the anniversary of my arrest made it all too real."

Garcia hugged him, and he held on like a child with his mother. She stroked his back, and he nearly gave into his desire to cry, but he was tired of crying. He pulled back and smiled at her. "I'm going to be fine. I just needed a hug from you."

"You don't have to ask, sweet thing. Anytime you need me; I am there. Okay?"

"Thank you, and the same goes for you. You know you can call me, even if I complain."

She laughed, and it was a joyous sound that made his heart light. "Yes, I know."

Garcia studied him, and he said. "What's wrong?"

"There is something else bothering you."

" _No_ ," he denied strenuously. "I'm fine."

"You sure."

"Yes."

"All right, I'll make us breakfast and a fresh pot of coffee for you."

"You don't have to make me an _entire_ pot, Garcia. I don't drink _that_ much caffeine."

Garcia stood and headed for her kitchen area. "Come on," she directed. "I need a sous chef."

"I don't cook," he countered.

"You're about to learn, sweet cheeks. Don't argue with me," Garcia commanded when Spencer didn't move.

Spencer got to his feet because there was no use in arguing with Garcia. She always got what she wanted.

"I'm warning you that this will be a disaster. I haven't cooked anything complicated in years."

"Nonsense," she argued and threw an apron at him. "Put it on."

"Okay, but you're taking your life in your hands," Reid informed her. "Do I have to wear this thing?" He asked with disgust. Her idea of an apron sported brilliant yellow ducklings from neckline to hem.

"Yes, you don't want to get your clothes dirty because we are going wardrobe shopping after breakfast."

"No, _we're_ not going shopping after breakfast," Reid countered. "I told you after last time, never again."

"Never is such a final word. I _hate_ finality."

"Well, get used to it because I'm _not_ going with you to shop for clothes. You're perfectly capable alone."

Garcia smirked at him as she handed him a carton of eggs. "I need half a dozen of these whisked together."

Reid shrugged. He could handle it after making scrambled eggs and omelets for his mother. His stomach clenched at the thought of her, but he put it away.

"I don't understand why your last foray into the world of shopping was _so_ awful," Garcia said.

"Yes, you do. "First," Reid enumerated. "You dragged me there without telling me your true intentions."

"I did not," she denied as she chopped green peppers.

"I may be the one with an eidetic memory, but you can't say you don't recall telling me that you needed to run into the mall for something to wear on a date with Sam. I let you talk me into going inside, even though it was a nice day, and I could've waited in the car. Then," he said as he began to whisk the eggs with so much energy they were in danger of flying out of the glass bowl. "You dragged me into the lingerie department. The clerk thought we were married."

Garcia burst out laughing. "Oh yeah, now I remember."

"It wasn't funny," Reid said as he furiously whisked the eggs.

"Woah," Garcia laid a hand on his arm. "I said _whisked_ , not _beaten_ to within an inch of their lives."

Reid stopped and glared at her, but she grinned in return. "That won't happen again."

"What?"

"You won't be mistaken for my husband."

"You're right," he agreed and wiped sweat from his forehead with a paper towel. "Because I'm not going with you."

"All right, I give up, but only because there is something you're not telling me and it's making you an irritable pain in the ass."

Reid stared at her. "I told you everything," he lied smoothly. "I have no secrets when it comes to you. You're a better profiler than me." 

Garcia stopped in the act of slicing green onions into a small glass bowl. "Spencer," she began, and his eyebrows lifted. She _never_ called him by his first name. "I'm worried about you. I know you went through literal hell last year. I want you to know that you can confide in me and I _will_ keep it to myself."

Reid sighed and leaned against the counter as she returned to work. She didn't meet his eyes, which made the confession easy. "I've been experiencing bouts of Post Traumatic Stress. I started to go to the gym when I'm teaching and when we don't go away on cases. I find that exercise helps to clear my head.

Garcia nodded and listened without comment regarding this new development.

"I was in the gym, on the treadmill and I started to have one of those moments. I couldn't stop a memory of prison. Every day was excruciating terror and boredom mixed like a weird – I don't know what to call it. I started running on the treadmill as if I could outrun the memory. When I finally got myself back under control, I could hardly breathe. I was trying not to cry because I don't have any tears left.

"Oh," Garcia turned to him and hugged him until he pushed away from her. "It's okay. I'm fine."

"Reid," she began, but he shook his head.

"I got off the treadmill, turned around and this agent was standing there staring at me. She didn't say anything just gave me a look like I was an interesting bug."

"Wait, did you say, _she,_ " Garcia asked as her eyes came alive with curiosity.

"Yes, and before you ask I didn't speak to her. She turned and walked away without comment. I don't know why I'm telling you this. She's a stranger and what do I care about a stranger that doesn't have the common courtesy to ask someone who's obviously in distress, If she can help."

Garcia began to shred some pepper jack cheese into another glass bowl. "Tell me more," she said. "What's she like?"

"I don't know," he snapped. "We didn't talk."

"I realize that but _is_ she beautiful."

"I suppose. She has blond hair that looks like ripe wheat, and her eyes are blue. She's tall, toned and her name is SSA Georgia Blue. She likes to be called, "George," he added as Garcia stared at him.

"How do you know she likes to be called "George," if you never spoke to her? Have you been checking up on her?"

"What? No! Of course not, Garcia. I ran into Rick Anderson, and he mentioned a new head of the Weapons and Personal Defense section of FLETC. He described her, and I knew he was talking about SSA Blue."

"Oh," Garcia said and began to search for her omelet pan in the overhead cupboards. "Is that all?"

There was no use in trying to say no, Reid accepted. Garcia's perceptions were irritating and wonderful at the same time. "I was in the cafeteria a week ago, and she ran into me, literally. Another agent tripped and knocked into SSA Blue, who knocked into me, and I barely avoided bowling over the person in front of me. When I turned around, she just stared at me and said. "What?" It was like apologizing was beneath her. So, I paid for my coffee and left. Then she got on the elevator with me. We stood there, and she finally said, "You're SSA Dr. Reid, right." I said "Yes," and then I ignored her until our floor.

"Reid," Garcia began. "That's not like you."

"You don't know," he snapped again. "Maybe that is me, now."

Tears welled up in Garcia's eyes, and Reid's heart sank. "I'm sorry. Penelope. I didn't mean to snap at you. I feel like my temper's on a hair trigger all the time." He yanked off the apron and threw it across the room. "I'm tired of Barnes and her idiotic obsession. I'm tired of believing I'll never feel normal again. I'm tired of watching my mother disappear into her mind, never to return. I _want_ to be normal."

"You keep using that word, normal," Garcia said as she wiped her eyes and began to pour eggs into her pan. "You want everything in your omelet?"

"What? Oh, ah, no green peppers, please."

"I think you've forgotten that what's normal for the rest of us isn't normal for you. You're unique, Spencer. We love you for your quirks, and your wonderful useless trivia and your quiet strength. Do you know that when Morgan left, I didn't know how I'd cope, but then I said, "What would Reid do?"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I thought that you'd rage against the change, in private, of course, but then you'd deal with it and go on."

Reid shook his head. "You're right. I'm not sure I like the fact that you read me so well, or that you want to emulate me. I'm a former drug addict and former convict. I'm socially awkward and too smart for most rooms."

"You're sweet, kind, gentle, amazing, loving, smoking hot, and I _must_ correct you, you're not a former convict. The accusation was false, remember? " Garcia countered.

"I don't think –"

"Don't contradict me," she commanded, and he began to laugh at the serious expression in her eyes.

"All right, I'm sorry."

"Good, let's finish breakfast. You're going to love my omelets."

"I'm sure I will. Thanks, Garcia."

"Anytime. Now, let's talk about Georgia Blue."

"Garcia," Reid groaned.

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Georgia Blue yanked the fitted bottom sheet onto her bed. She tried not to think about the previous night and the horrible nightmare that had awakened her at two in the morning, but it kept popping into her mind like some hideous movie reel set to continuous play.

"Damn you," she raged and once again the desire to run out the door and never stop until she found the one man who'd destroyed her world.

"Then what," she said to the empty room. "Kill him."

Oh, she could kill him for Andy's sake.

"Won't make you feel better, so stop thinking about it."

She cleaned her apartment from top to bottom, did the laundry and had restocked her pantry, fridge, and cupboards with a month's worth of groceries. Now, she had one last chore, making the bed, and then she'd have to find another way to stop thinking about revenge on a man who was out of her reach.

She reached for the top sheet, shook it out and then sat heavily on the edge of her mattress. She dropped the sheet, put her head in her hands and began to cry the tears no one saw. Her eyes were red and stinging twenty minutes later, and she lay on the bed with her legs drawn up in the fetal position.

It was Dr. Reid's fault! If she'd known that she'd meet someone who had eyes like Andy's - she shook her head and sighed. "You going to run away from men with eyes the color of chocolate, for the rest of your miserable life."

Dr. Reid must think her insane. "Why do you care?" Georgia said to the empty room. "He's just another man like all the other men in the world. Remember it was a man that blew up your life."

She sat, reached for a box of Kleenex, and wiped her eyes. "Stop wallowing and finish making the bed." She said sternly. "And, stop talking to yourself," she ordered.

Georgia finished making the bed. She took a long shower, brushed out her hair, and dressed in a pair of old grey sweatpants and a black and white striped tee-shirt. She pulled on thick white socks and padded to the kitchen for tea. She'd enjoy her weekend, and not think about men with beautiful brown eyes, and vulnerable expressions that made her yearn to hold them.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: Please see my profile**_

Reid flipped on the overhead lights at Quantico's training gymnasium and watched as the huge, round fixtures brightened into life with quiet popping noises. He looked at the blue exercise mat on the floor as he walked to the treadmill. Faint memories, like faded photographs pulsed in his mind, of his training as a new agent and his embarrassing awkwardness that had invited more bullying into his life. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply and shut the unwanted images away.

The clock on the wall read two minutes before six in the morning. He sighed and wondered if he'd ever sleep through the night again. He set the treadmill for a walk, and as soon as his feet began to move, the memories of rough hands and loud cursing voices tried to push out of the lockbox in his head. He fisted his hands and blew out an explosive breath. The memories might push him out of bed, but he wouldn't let them into the waking hours of his world, _not_ anymore.

He stared at the wall behind the treadmill and tried to see the pages of the latest book he'd read instead of the faces of men who hated him just because they could, but their voices echoed menacingly in his brain like a rap song he'd once heard in downtown DC. After a mile, he stepped off with the intention to use the free weights. Maybe the intensity of counting reps and breathing through the exercises would banish the demons back to the cage in his head. Instead, his feet took him to the heavy bag where it hung from a support in the high ceiling. He touched it and felt the rough texture of the material and the solid bulk of something he'd seen used in movies and on television.

 _Don't forget Georgia!_

Spencer closed his eyes and forced her face from his head. Somehow he had to find a way to work in the same building with her and not think about her at inconvenient times.

 _When is it convenient?_

He shook his head and ran his hand over the bag. He'd never attempted to punch a heavy bag, but Morgan once said he took out his frustrations on the bag which hung in his basement. Reid planted his feet, addressed the bag, and raised his fists like Morgan had taught him years ago.

He punched the bag as hard as he could, and it barely moved. The contact with the bag, however, felt like punching concrete. He hissed and cried out in pain. He shook out his hand and cursed aloud his stupidity. Then, something happened because the shout of memory started to fade in his head. He thought for a moment, steeled his body, and punched again. This time the pain bloomed like a red cloud in his brain, and he thought that maybe the bag moved just a little. Again, he stopped and shook his right hand, but after another breath to steady his nerves, he punched again, and this time something stung in his knuckles. He didn't stop to look but punched until the pain, and the spot of fresh blood on the bag forced him to drop his hands and stand breathing like a wheezing old man.

"Are you trying to break your hand, or are you a masochist," said a familiar voice at his back.

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SSA Georgia Blue pulled on her workout shorts, a sports bra and clipped back her hair. She tied her shoes and slammed the door to her locker. She consulted her watch as she wound her way through the locker room to the entrance of the gymnasium. It read 6:23 am. She sighed and thought about the days when she'd been able to sleep through the night. It seemed years since the last time she'd laid down and fallen straight to sleep without the aid of alcohol, or a sleeping pill.

She stopped just inside the door of the gym, surprised to see the overhead lights on, and another person just stepping off one of the treadmills. It was Dr. Reid! She stared at him as he turned around and seemed to head in the direction of the free weights before veering off and walking to the heavy bag. He walked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and something stirred in her heart. His eyes - the very color of Andy and Charles – one an innocent child, the other, a cunning and evil man who'd destroyed her world.

Georgia wavered, which irritated her because she never let anyone make her feel uncomfortable. She straightened her shoulders, forced the memories of Andy and Charles out of her head until Dr. Reid hit the bag. She heard his shout of pain and watched him shake it off with a determination that made her smile against her will. She thought he'd stop, but he didn't and again, something stirred in her heart. She recognized his stance and the way he tried to punish himself for something that festered in his soul like cancer.

After several blows to the innocent heavy bag and groans of pain from Dr. Reid, she decided to put a stop to it. As she approached him, she saw that his hand bleed freely and she winced. How many times had she punched the bag until she'd injured a hand to be free of some cursed memory?

"Are you trying to break your hand, or are you a masochist?" She said without thinking.

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Reid whirled around and saw the face of the woman he disliked – no, that wasn't the word. He _didn't_ dislike her. He _didn't_ know her, and he _didn't_ want to know her. Georgia Blue held no more interest for him than a fly on an office wall.

 _That's not true, and you know it._

Spencer shut out the mental voice that insisted on contradicting him. He wanted to respond to her comment, but the words refused to travel from his tongue and exit his mouth. His hand burned and throbbed, and blood welled up from the scrapes on the flesh, but he refused to cradle it in the other hand and show her that she was right.

"Come on," she said briskly. "There's a first aid kit in my office."

"No," he said and then realized from the look on her face that he was making himself ridiculous. "Fine," he said and held out his injured hand. "Lead the way, SSA Blue."

Georgia's eyes jumped at the use of her name, and he cursed himself again for revealing that he knew her despite no formal introduction.

 _Way to go, Mr. Expert Profiler!_

Reid followed her because his hand throbbed like a bad toothache and he wondered if he'd done more damage than bruising and scraping the skin. Georgia took him through the deserted hallway that ran parallel to the locker rooms and around a corner to an office.

"Here," she pointed to a white painted metal box with a red cross on the top. "Sit." Georgia indicated the chair behind her desk.

Spencer sat and watched her open the box with hands that were surprisingly delicate for someone so tough. His traitor mind, now free of the cursing voices and vivid prison memories began to wonder what her hands might feel like if they touched him.

 _Stop it!_

Reid composed his face and hoped a blush did not betray his thoughts when Georgia turned around and approached with the first aid kit. "Hold out your hand."

Reid obeyed like a child with his mother. Georgia took his hand, and her flesh felt like smooth, warm silk. He clenched his teeth and forced a neutral expression as she began to use a cotton swab soaked in alcohol to clean the scrapes. He hissed and tried to flinch away. "I'm sorry," Georgia said in a kind tone, that surprised Reid into silence. "It stings, but you know it's necessary."

Reid nodded and bit his lip until she'd added some anti-bacterial and analgesic cream to the wound. Georgia released his hand, long enough to remove gauze and tape from the kit. Reid managed not to give in to the wild desire to tell her to touch him again because three seconds later, she picked up his hand and began to bandage the wound.

"There," she said. "I think it's just bruised and cut, but you should see a doctor."

"Right," he said and forced a smile. "Um, thank you."

Reid stood and turned for the door to her office. "Wait," said Georgia. "I want to apologize for the other day in the cafeteria. I'm sorry I was rude."

"It's okay," he said. "I understand.

"No, you don't," she said. "Look, we haven't been introduced even though we seem to know each other's name."

"Yes," he agreed. "One of my colleagues and friends pointed you out to me."

"Oh," she said, and one eyebrow went up. "What did he say?"

Reid shrugged. "The usual," and Georgia laughed.

"No," he said realizing his mistake. "He's engaged but made the point that it was okay to look. I think he's impressed, like most of the agents, that you're the first woman to teach weapons and defense for FLETC."

"I didn't join the FBI to be the first woman anything," Georgia said and waved a hand as though dismissing the entire concept of making a difference.

"Why did you join?" Reid asked then cursed himself for asking because her face shut down.

"It doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry I asked."

Georgia sighed. "One day, Dr. Reid, if you're lucky, I'll tell you the whole sordid story. For now, I have just enough time for a short work out, and then I need to get started on my day."

"Of course," he said.

As he stood his eyes swept over her desk and saw a photograph in a plain wooden frame of a child about three with eyes the color of melted chocolate, sitting in Georgia's lap with a toy truck in his hands. They both smiled – no, they laughed at the camera. He gaped in surprise at the pure joy on her face, with the summer sun, green grass, and colorful flowers in the background of the picture. The change to her was incredible and her beauty shown with an intensity that took his breath away.

"Dr. Reid, you okay?"

"Oh, yes, sorry." He hurried to the door and left without saying goodbye.

She had a son! No one said she might be married. Then he realized she didn't wear a ring. Maybe she takes it off to work. Maybe he could ask Garcia to find out for certain, her status. He stopped because he realized that he was practically running down the hall. He couldn't ask Garcia to investigate Georgia Blue.

 _What is the matter with you?_

Reid forced himself to walk into the locker room. He saw that several agents were in various states of undress and most of them were talking, laughing, and horsing around.

"Hey, Dr. Reid," said SSA Max Donaldson. "How ya doing?"

"Good," he said in feigned good spirits. "How are you, Donaldson?"

"I'm great. It's going to be a lovely day, right boys?"

His companions groaned as did several cadets in the room. "You see, Dr. Reid everyone's a critic."

An agent with dark hair and flashing green eyes threw a towel at Donaldson, and Reid escaped to the showers before he was caught up in the roughhousing. When he emerged from the shower, all the agents were gone, and he sighed. No one had noticed his hand, but someone on the team would notice and what would he say when questioned.

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Georgia sat behind her desk; her workout forgotten as she tried to calm the storm in her chest. Her eyes didn't seek out the photograph on her desk. Instead, her thoughts turned inward and back to Dr. Spencer Reid.

She could feel his hand on the skin of her palms, and the sensation skipped through her like a stone on the surface of a clear pond at sunset. Spencer had the hands of a concert pianist or a surgeon. They were delicate, and yet as strong as satin covered steel. God! She hoped he hadn't seen how touching him affected her heart and made it a race. Had he heard the tremor in her voice when she spoke to him?

"No," she said and smacked her fist on one thigh until it throbbed with pain. "You don't have time to moon like a schoolgirl with a crush."

Georgia turned to the photo on her desk. Spencer had seen it and realized it's significance. She'd seen it in his lovely eyes before he left her office without so much as a goodbye. "It doesn't matter," she assured the boy in the photo. "I will _not_ be distracted by a pretty face."

 _He's more than a pretty face, and you know it. He understands the meaning of suffering. You saw it in his eyes._

Georgia closed her eyes and attempted to banish Spencer from her thoughts, but he wouldn't go. He persisted in appearing in her mind's eye, with his kind, gentle, and haunted eyes. They were the eyes that begged for understanding. She knew it because she saw that look in her mirror, every day. When would someone respond to the call?

 _Spencer will._

Georgia shook her head and got to her feet. She left the office and hurried down the hallway to her first class of the week. She was going to be late, and as she walked, she didn't stop to consider when Dr. Reid had become Spencer in her thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

"Hey, Reid.'' Luke greeted him when he rushed into the bullpen.

"Hi," he responded, distractedly.

A teetering stack of files on his desk begged for his attention, but he ignored it for the aspirin in his desk. He chugged two with some of the coffee he'd bought from the cafeteria. The coffee burned his tongue, and he hissed.

"Everything okay," Luke wondered.

"Yeah, coffee's too hot."

"I meant your hand. You okay."

Reid sighed and bit off the urge to tell Luke to mind his business. He saw in his friend's eyes the desire to help, not pry. "I had a little accident in the gym. It's no big deal. SSA Blue helped me with her first aid kit," he said without thinking.

"Oh," Luke's eyebrows went up. "The new FLETC instructor. You know her."

"No! I mean, I've seen her a couple of times and Anderson told me about her, but we're not friends."

"Too bad, she's easy on the eyes."

"Who's easy on the eyes," Matt Simmons approached them with his blackberry in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.

"SSA Blue," Luke explained, helpfully and much to Reid's chagrin.

"Isn't she the new FLETC instructor everyone's talking about."

"They are?" Reid squeaked against his better judgment.

"Yeah," Matt said. "She's a former NYPD detective. She helped bring down most of Chaz Capello's drug cartel, but they didn't get the man himself, despite her testimony."

"Why not?" Luke asked the question foremost on Reid's mind.

At that precise moment, JJ entered the bullpen with Rossi and Garcia. "Sorry, guys. We have a case," Garcia said. "Time to put on your superhero identities my lovelies and save the world."

"One day, I'm going to finish my first cup of coffee before we have to congregate in the conference room," Rossi complained.

Reid heard nervous giggles escape his lips and he flinched when his teammates looked at him with curiosity. "A study conducted by Harvard in 2009 found that decreasing your caffeine intake in the morning contributed to a more natural sleep rhythm –"

"All right," Rossi interrupted and shook his head. "Enough, Reid. I'm going to finish this cup if it kills me."

"Yeah," said Tara, who'd joined them in the upstairs hallway to the round table room. "I don't see you decreasing your caffeine intake in the morning."

Reid shrugged, and JJ laughed. "Are you kidding, Spence lives for his first cup in the morning. If he came into a briefing without it, I'd think the universe had tilted on its side."

"Did you know there's no up or down in space," Reid said as the entered the conference room. "What we perceive as up or down is the function of gravity on earth, so the universe can't tilt on its side."

Emily stared at them. "Do I want to know?"

"No," Rossi and Matt said in unison.

"Okay," Emily said and nodded to Garcia. "Let's get started with the briefing, please."

Reid opened the file Garcia passed him and despite more blood, and waste, he rejoiced inside that he'd successfully sidetracked his teammates away from SSA Blue. Now, he needed to find a way to stop thinking about the touch of her hands, or the photo of the small child in her lap on a gorgeous summer day.

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Georgia Blue set aside her bottle of water and stretched her arms over her head. She pushed aside the copies of official NYPD and FBI files, and court records that did no good. Why go over the same ground repeatedly when it didn't help? She picked up her phone and dialed a number.

"Hey," she greeted. "Anything."

"Nothing," said the voice on the other end. "George, you gotta accept the fact that we may never find him."

"I don't accept that, Jerry. I wanna see him rot. He has to pay for what he did to Andy."

"I hear you, George, but the last intel says he's on some island in the middle of nowhere. Though we don't know for sure which little Caribbean country, you can be sure they don't have an extradition treaty with us."

George nodded her head. "All right, Jerry, but I'm not giving up. I can't! He took my son away from me. I want him dead or rotting in jail. Preferably in the ground."

"Get some sleep, George."

"I'll try."

Later, she stretched out on her sofa and fell into a deep sleep despite her protests to her old partner. She slept deep for nearly three hours before the dream made its way into her conscious mind.

" _NYPD," she shouted as she swung around the corner of the small Brooklyn dwelling. Her gun tracked right then left, then right again._

" _Clear," she shouted and heard the same word from other rooms in the house._

" _Found something," came a voice from the second floor._

 _Georgia raced up the stairs with several SWAT officers at her back. Her vest made running a chore as it impeded her breathing. As always in her dream, she ran at top speed, but the length of the short hallway seemed to stretch as though it were made from taffy instead of plaster and wooden supports. It tilted crazily like a ride in the carnival funhouse, and the voices around her took on a distorted quality like the echoes down a mineshaft._

 _Finally, her shoes picked up speed, and she hurried into the room to find her new partner, Jerry O'Malley, fourth generation Irish cop, standing over a small pool of blood and holding a familiar blue and white striped shirt in his large hands. Scarlet blood stained it like an accusation, and she dropped her pistol to the floor. She fell to her knees and wailed like an animal with its foot caught in a trap._

"No!" She screamed and thrashed awake.

Her breath wheezed out of her lungs as they were badly used bellows trying to fan alive the fire of life. What a joke? Her life had ended the day she knew Andy was dead. She looked at her hands and saw scarlet blood splattered over her finger and up her arms. She moaned and began to rock back and forth in her seat. She closed her eyes and tried to close out the horror of that moment.

"It's over. Let it go, damn you."

She opened her eyes, and the scarlet stains disappeared from her hands, but she wondered if they'd ever leave her heart and the recesses of her mind. She trudged to her bedroom, pulled off her work clothes and stepped into a blistering hot shower. Tears mingled with the water, the tears she never let anyone see lest they try to tell her it wasn't her fault.

Later, she poured out a glass of red wine and climbed into her bed with her files and every piece of intel she had on Chaz Capello. Her new contact at the FBI contradicted some of what Jerry told her, and she began to wonder if he were lying to her.

The files from Quantico said that Capello had been spotted in Baltimore three days ago. It appeared that he was trying to contact some old friends who'd escaped with him when the heat came down on him. Good. If she planned it right, she might take revenge and then she'd find the peace she needed.

Georgia picked up her glass of wine and glanced at the old-fashioned clock on the wall opposite her bed. It read just after midnight. Too late to contact her new friend at Quantico. She drummed her fingers on the edge of the folder, then decided she'd try to sleep, again.

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Emily, Luke, Reid, and Garcia sat around the break room table. They were a somber group who looked like they could use a good stiff drink, but no one moved a muscle. Two weeks had passed since the incident in the gym, but the last thing on Reid's mind was his hand.

"You think Matt's okay," Garcia inquired cautiously.

"I wouldn't be," Luke commented, then lapsed into silence.

Emily glanced at Reid who sat staring at an empty coffee mug. The shadows around his eyes reminded her of the terrible days just after his release from prison when he looked – haunted. She smiled, but he didn't return her offer of unspoken understanding.

"I'm going home," Reid suddenly declared. "I'm exhausted."

"I was going to suggest drinks," Emily said.

"No," Spencer replied, and before any of them could speak, he hurried out of the break room.

Garcia got to her feet. "I should see if he's okay."

"Let it go, Penelope!" Emily said, then smiled at Garcia's expression. "I mean that he needs time. He'll be okay."

"What's wrong," Luke asked.

Emily sighed. "To make a long story short, Reid knows what it's like to have someone he loved killed in front of him.

"Seriously."

"Yes, "Garcia said, with a look that made Luke sit back and nod in understanding. "Let's go have a drink. We'll drag in Rossi and Tara."

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Spencer paced the dimensions of his room like a jungle cat on the prowl for some unsuspecting animal to rip apart and consume. His heart beat in his chest like a trip hammer, and his blood roared in his ears. He held his hands fisted at his sides and his teeth clenched together like a vice.

"Let it go," he said to the empty apartment.

He wished he _could_ let it go, but Maeve's face wouldn't leave his mind. Why couldn't he save her the way Matt had saved Kristen. It wasn't right or fair. He felt stinging pain in his hands and realized that his nails dug into the flesh with enough force to draw blood.

"Let it go," he said again and felt some measure of his control return.

He went to his couch and despite his vow not to sleep there, he fell into a deep slumber that lasted until dreams propelled into the world of the living at six the next morning.

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Spencer Reid took his mug of coffee and a ridiculously decadent chocolate chip muffin to a table in the cafeteria at Quantico. He was about to enjoy his unhealthy snack when someone approached his table. He looked up to see Georgia Blue standing there with a fragrant cup of coffee.

"May I sit," she asked.

Spencer almost said no, then he nodded and gestured to the other side of the table. Georgia sat with cat-like grace, and his heart tripped in his chest.

"Your hand looks better," she said, as she studied the skin on his healed knuckles.

"Oh, ah – yes, it's fine. Thanks again for your medical services on demand."

"You're welcome. I'm glad I could help. You haven't been down there again, have you."

"No," Spencer said, and then he smiled, and it lit up his face. "Only for a walk or to lift weights. I learned my lesson."

 _My god, he's as beautiful as an angel fallen from Heaven._

Georgia forced herself not to stare at the gorgeous man across the table. Instead, she looked at her coffee cup until she felt she could meet his eyes.

"I saw my doctor," he was saying.

"Oh," Georgia replied and cursed herself for the tremble in her voice.

"Yeah," Spencer said and didn't seem to notice the tremor. "You were right, no broken bones, just bruising."

"I'm glad," Georgia said and inwardly cursed her inability to speak more than two words at a time.

Silence reigned around them as it was early in the morning, and no one else had the time to sit and do nothing in the cafeteria. Georgia didn't have the time, but something had made her sit and now she wondered what next to say to Dr. Spencer Reid.

Spencer observed SSA Blue and tried to think of something to say but he couldn't, so he sipped his hot coffee and looked out the window to at the April day. The cherry blossoms were in bloom and had turned the trees into pink and white clouds of glory that waved gently in the wind.

"Dr. Reid," said Georgia.

"Hm… Oh, sorry. I was just – well, looking at the trees outside. I love cherry blossoms," he blurted out, then wished the floor would open and swallow him.

"Yeah, they are pretty," Georgia agreed. "I wanted to say again that I'm sorry for the way I treated you the first time we met."

"It's okay," Reid waved it away with one hand.

"Thanks," Georgia said. "I'm not great at making friends at work.

"Me either," Reid said.

"I don't believe that," Georgia argued.

"It's true. I was horribly awkward when I started with the BAU years ago."

Georgia didn't know what to say to that, so she turned her eyes to the window and the sky with fluffy white and pewter tinged clouds.

"I have to go," Spencer said and drew back her attention. "It was nice to see you again."

"Yeah," Georgia said.

Spencer stood, took the remains of his muffin and coffee. He took five steps toward the double doors that led to the exit, then he stopped, turned, and hurried back to Georgia. "I don't like walking on eggshells, SSA Blue."

Surprise made Georgia lose her determination not to let Spencer Reid get under her skin. "Me either," she breathed.

"I think we should have dinner this weekend," Spencer said resolutely.

"Okay," agreed Georgia.

"Good." Spencer turned again for the door.

"Wait," Georgia called. "If I'm going out with you, I need details. How do I contact you?"

Spencer grinned at her and said. "Don't worry, I'll call you. Then, he simply walked away and left her staring after him.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer: see my profile**_

Garcia was deep into a Tetris tournament when a knock sounded on her office door. The knock, or more properly, the quiet tap, told her who stood on the other side of the entrance. "Come in, gorgeous gray-matter. Don't be shy."

Spencer opened the door and walked in, or rather strolled in with an air of innocence that immediately made Garcia suspicious. "Hey, Garcia."

"Hello, handsome, what can I do for you?"

Spencer shrugged. "I wanted to say hi."

Garcia narrowed her eyes at her visitor. "Is that _all_?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

Garcia gestured to a chair. "Sit down, sweet cheeks. What do you want to talk about?"

Spencer smiled, but his eyes were full of something Garcia recognized as confusion and a bit of panic. She nodded encouragingly, and he sighed. "I can't fool you."

"No," Garcia agreed. "What's wrong?"

"I think I did something I'm going to regret."

Garcia pushed a large plastic cup full of lollipops in his direction. "What did you do that's so terrible?"

"It isn't terrible," Spencer denied as he took a cherry lollipop and pulled off the wrapper. He scrunched it in his hand and tossed it into Garcia's pink garbage basket. "You know about this," he held up his healed right hand.

"Yes," Garcia nodded. "You said SSA Blue doctored it for you."

"I ran into her this morning. I was sitting in the commissary with coffee and one of those delicious chocolate chip muffins."

"Those are _so_ good," Garcia moaned. "Why didn't you buy one for me?"

"Garcia!"

"I'm kidding, sweet cheeks. I had one two hours ago."

Reid stared at her, and she grinned back until he laughed. "You always know how to make me feel better."

"It's a talent," Garcia said with a lofty expression.

"Yes, it is."

"Enough about me," Garcia said. "What about SSA Blue?"

"She asked if she could join me and I said yes. We had a civilized conversation about my hand, and then I said I had to go back to work and I left."

"That's _it_ ," Garcia interrupted with clear dismay on her face. "Reid, what is the _matter_ with you?"

"You didn't let me finish," Reid scolded as he sucked on his lollipop.

"Sorry. Please continue."

"I started to walk away, but then for some reason, I don't understand I turned around, went back, and told her I don't like walking on eggshells around people and we should go out to dinner."

Garcia squealed with delight. "Oh, sweet cheeks! What did she say? It better be yes because if she said no, then I'll –"

"No," he held up the hand with the lollipop. "She didn't say no."

"Then why are you so upset."

"I'm not upset, but I am wondering why I blurted out the invitation without thinking. I'm not exactly dating material right now."

"Why?" Garcia asked.

"Because I'm not ready, Penelope. This last year- I don't want to delve into the disaster it's been for me. I thought I was getting back to normal, but I've been having nightmares again."

"Reid," Garcia said, gently. "I can see that you're upset, but I can also see that you like SSA Blue. Did you stop to consider that she might be what you need right now?"

"I don't see how," Reid argued. "It's obvious to me that the last thing she wants is to go out on a date, with _any_ man."

Garcia shook her head. "You two need someone to lock you in a room until you work out your differences."

"That's not funny."

"Yes, it is. The fact is that you asked her out and now you must go through with it. I know you want to, so what is the problem?"

"I don't want to scare her off with all my baggage."

"Have you considered that she has baggage, too?"

"Yes."

"You know what your problem is, Reid," Garcia asked, calmly. "You want to be the only martyr in the room."

"That's not true," Reid cried, indignantly.

"Yes, it is. Have you considered that forming a relationship with someone outside of the BAU, even if it doesn't become romantic might be good for your soul? You help her with her problems, and you don't think about your worries."

Reid tried to come up with an argument for Garcia's sound assessment and frowned over his lollipop when he couldn't think of anything to say. "You're right," he finally said. "I hate that you are, by the way."

Garcia smirked at him. "I know!"

Reid shook his head and pulled the lollipop from his mouth. "This is good. New brand?"

"Yes, I got them from that new place in Arlington. You should see the chocolate fountain they have inside. It's amazing.

The sucked on their lollipops for a few minutes without speaking. Garcia finally laid aside the remains of her green apple selection.

"What did you decide to do?"

"I'm going to take her to dinner," Reid said. "It'll probably end in disaster, but – "

"You keep using that word. What if you're wrong and it ends on a high note?"

Reid opened his mouth, but Garcia's phone interrupted him. "Damn," she cursed. "We have a case, and it looks like a doozy. You better go."

"Thanks, Garcia," he said and flipped his lollipop into the trash.

"You're welcome. See you in a minute."

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Reid hurried into the conference room where he found Tara, Emily, Rossi, and JJ. He took the chair next to Emily near the whiteboard and greeted her. "Hey, boss lady."

Emily pretended irritation. "Excuse me."

Reid grinned at her as Tara and JJ rolled their eyes. "Sorry, just kidding."

"How's your hand?"

Reid held it up. "It's good. The bruising's healed properly, and it doesn't ache."

"Good."

Matt entered, followed by Luke and Garcia. "I told you _one_ per day," Garcia was saying to Luke.

"Sorry, I like the root beer flavor."

"Yes, I know they're your favorite, but you bother me when you come in three times a day."

"I don't come in three times a day."

"Problem," Emily asked as Matt and Rossi looked at each other and sniggered.

"No," Garcia said. "I need a better lock on my door."

Luke smirked at her and sat as Emily shook her head. "All right, settle down everyone," Emily said.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please turn your attention to Baltimore." She clicked the remote, and the photo of a young boy popped into existence.

Reid felt his heart leap into his throat and choke him. His world shrank until the only thing in his universe was the smiling boy in front of him. Confusion sent his heart into such a rapid pounding he felt dizzy. It couldn't be the same boy. This child looked about a year older, but – he was the same child.

"Reid," Emily's voice finally penetrated his thoughts.

"What?" Spencer realized the team stared at him with undisguised curiosity. "Ah, Emily I can't work this case."

"Why not?"

Emily's dark eyes demanded an answer from him that made sense and right now.

"Because I know his mother, at least I think I do."

"Explain," Rossi said.

"I don't understand how this child is involved. His mother is an SSA with the FBI. I've seen a photograph of them together in her office."

"Reid, this is Andrew Capello. He went missing from New York five hours ago. His mother is dead and his father's missing, too."

Reid shook his head. "I know what I saw Emily. Eidetic memory, remember."

"You're saying that you saw a photo at Quantico of this exact boy," Emily persisted.

"Yes – well, the photo I saw is about a year old, but he's the same little boy. I'd swear my life on it."

Emily looked at the others, and they all nodded. "After all these years, I won't question your judgment."

"Who's the SSA?" Matt asked.

"SSA Georgia Blue."

"The FLETC instructor," JJ said in astonishment. "You know her, Spence."

"Yes," he said and pointed to his hand. "She was in the gym when I hurt my hand, and we went to her office to get the first aid kit. That's where I saw the photo."

"You need to talk to her, right _now_ ," Emily said.

"I can't be on this case," Reid protested.

"You know her," Emily overrode. "Go. Find out what's going on. We don't have a lot of time. You know the odds, Spence."

"All right," he got to his feet. "I'll go talk to her."

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Reid found Georgia in the gymnasium with a new class of cadets. She was helping them through the basics of self-defense when he walked in.

"Remember," she said. "It doesn't matter if your opponent outweighs you. There are ways of taking them down. You know the saying the bigger they are, the harder they fall. It's true if you have the right leverage and hold. Now I want you to practice breaking an attacker's hold. Just like I demonstrated with Cadet Williams. Pair up."

Georgia looked up to see Spencer standing near the door and staring at her as if his life depended on her. She hurried over to him when he gestured to her. "What are you doing?" She hissed. "I'm in the middle of a class if you don't mind."

"I need to talk to you, Georgia. It's personal and important."

"Dr. Reid, I'm busy. I know I said I'd go to dinner with you –"

"I'm not here about a date," Spencer ground out and his eyes flashed in a way that made her go quietly.

"Over here," she gestured to one corner.

"No, we have to go to your office. There is something I need to confirm, and you _won't_ want to hear this news ten feet from your students."

"What the hell?"

"Georgia, please!"

"All right."

Georgia went back to her class and whistled so loud, Spencer grimaced. "Everyone. I have an emergency. I want you to practice for another ten minutes, and then you're free to go. If I see anyone before," she looked at her watch, "ten oh seven, you're cut from the program. Is _that_ understood?"

"Yes ma'am," they said as one.

Spencer couldn't help the smirk on his face when she walked back to him.

"What?"

"You have them whipped into shape."

"That was nothing," she waved her hand. "They all want to be big and bad FBI agents. They're motivated."

"I see that."

Reid hurried her down the hallway to her office, refusing to answer her questions until they entered the room. He went to the photo on her desk and picked it up. "Who is this, Georgia?"

"What business is it of yours, Spencer?"

"It's my business because this little boy is the subject of my latest case."

All the color drained from Georgia Blue's face, and she sat heavily in her chair. "What are you saying?"

"He's gone missing today, Georgia. Is he your son?"

"Yes," she said through white lips. "Andy can't be missing, Spencer. He's dead."

Spencer looked at the photo again, then he pulled his cell from his pocket and brought up a copy of the most recent photo of Andrew Capello. "Look," he passed it to her. "His name is Andrew Capello. This is a copy of the Amber Alert photo. The woman thought to be his mother was killed, and his father is missing. What's going on, Georgia?"

"It can't be him," she said faintly. "There was so much blood – oh god, it is Andy. Spencer! What's happening?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Come upstairs with me and meet the team. We need to know everything there is to know about your son _and_ his father."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer: see my profile**_

Reid and SSA Blue entered the roundtable room looking like they wanted to be anywhere but in the middle of a BAU case. Emily stood and greeted Georgia with a welcoming smile and an outstretched hand. "I'm SSA Emily Prentiss. These are SSAs Rossi, Simmons, Alvez, Jarreau, Lewis and our Technical Analyst, Penelope Garcia."

"SSA Georgia Blue. What's going on? Spen – I mean, Dr. Reid, said you have a case involving my son."

"We believe it is, yes."

"I'm running facial recognition software," Garcia put in as Georgia sat next to JJ. "The results should be in – right now." She said as her laptop beeped.

Spencer took another chair across from Rossi and next to Tara but facing Georgia. SSA Blue stared at Garcia as if her life depended on the results. Reid found he couldn't stop watching her wait and irritation at his lack of control surged in his blood. He yanked his eyes away, and they settled on Emily who looked back with a composed expression and eyes that showed she knew what he thought.

"It's a ninety-eight point seven percent match to the photo Reid sent to me from your desk. It's your son." Garcia announced.

"My god, how is this possible?" SSA Blue demanded. "The DNA tests were conclusive. There was so much blood – they said he couldn't survive. I don't believe this is happening."

"Tell us everything from the beginning." Emily pressed.

"It was five years ago in New York. I was a detective in Vice. One of my classmates from the academy took an undercover assignment. She was my best friend. She made detective before me, and I never heard the end of it." Georgia laughed, but it was like a sob.

Spencer wanted to reach out and take her hand, but he forced his eyes on his file folder instead.

"Her name was Anna Gutierrez, and she was smart, tough and capable. It wasn't her first undercover assignment, but it was big. We were picked to join the task force that tried to take down the Capello, crime family."

"I remember that," Rossi said. "They make good Italian-American families like mine look bad. I believe the NYPD got everyone but the head of the family, Charles."

"Yeah," Georgia said bitterly. "Charles, or Chaz as he liked to be called, slipped away after someone blew Anna's cover and he killed her."

"I'm sorry," Emily said.

"I sometimes wonder what would've happened had we realized we had a mole in the department before that person blew her cover. She'd be alive, and Chaz might be in prison. Then, I think I wouldn't have my son."

She wiped at her eyes and stayed silent for a long time until Tara said gently. "Chaz in Andrew's father."

"Yes. I was so caught up in revenge; I vowed to bring him down. I worked the case on my own time, and I found him, but again he was warned, and when I went to his old warehouse on the wharf, he jumped me. I went without backup, and he was able to get behind me and pistol whip me. When I woke up, I was tied down."

Her voice began to break as she talked, and her face remained chalk-white and her lips bloodless and thin against her teeth. Reid tried to meet her eyes, but she looked at the table while holding her hands together as if they were birds about to fly away into the clear blue sky of spring.

"I was stupid. I should've taken back up, but I was bent on revenge. Anna was more than a good friend. She was like a sister to me. I loved her like family, and he took her away from me. I hated him more than I've ever hated anyone in my life. I still hate him. I want him dead."

"Georgia," Emily began, but SSA Blue shook her head and lowered her voice from her tirade. "I'm sorry. I'll tell you the rest." She promised.

"He confronted me, laughed at me for thinking that I, a mere woman could bring him down. Then he told me I'd meet the same end as Anna. He – um," her voice began to shake.

Reid wanted to say it was enough, but it wasn't enough, and he knew that Georgia understood it well. He kept his eyes on her white face and listened.

"He raped me, twice, then beat me so badly, I should have died, but I didn't because of two patrol cops who stumbled on me after he left me for dead outside the warehouse. They saved my life, but I was in a coma for two weeks. When I woke up, I was in the hospital, and Chaz had disappeared. It was three weeks later that I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to get an abortion. I was furious, and I wanted nothing to do with a child fathered by a monster, but then I realized that the baby was innocent, and I couldn't end an innocent life, or I'd never been able to live with myself. I've never regretted the choice, even when it seemed he was dead."

"Can you tell us about the day you thought you lost him?" JJ asked quietly.

"I don't know – I, um – oh, god, it was so terrible and all the blood." She took in a long breath and said something that no one heard. She closed her eyes and began.

"After Andy was born, and after months of physical and headshrinker appointments, I was cleared to go back to duty. I spent months on desk duty as punishment for going after Chaz without backup, much less a warrant or probable cause. I didn't care because I was home early every night and off weekends for six months."

She opened her eyes and looked at Reid for the first time. "I had to choose my path, and I chose to let Chaz go. It was more important to me that Chaz never knew about his son than to take revenge. I thought he was out of reach. I concentrated on trying to help uncover the mole, but that proved impossible."

Spencer watched her carefully and thought he saw something in her eyes when she used the word impossible that indicated to him that she'd never truly given up hope and that she might know the mole. Interesting.

"It was two days after Andy's third birthday when a call came into 911 from my home address. I'd hired a nanny for Andy that I trusted implicitly. She was a friend from high school who'd joined the military. She served in Iraq, and she was tough. She loved Andy and took care of him as if he were her own. She was attacked and killed, but not before she managed to call for help. When we arrived, Andy was gone. We found the –"

She stopped again when her voice wavered and cracked.

"We can take a break," Emily said.

"No, I want to get it out. You're the first people outside of the NYPD that I've told the story and I want to finish."

Emily nodded as the others remained silent. Reid kept his eyes on her face, but she returned to staring at the table.

"I found his blood-stained shirt, and I lost it. I don't remember the details after that except waking in the hospital. My partner told me the blood on the shirt was human, and DNA testing proved it was Andy's blood. Later, it was determined that he wasn't killed there, but at a secondary crime scene. It was the same warehouse where Chaz nearly killed me. That's what told me it was him. I insisted on seeing the scene and from the amount of blood – well they told me no one could live and lose so much blood."

Georgia sighed and sagged back in her chair as if the relief of telling exhausted her physically. She shook her head and said. "I don't understand. They tested the blood, and it was a match to the DNA. Are we saying that someone in the New York Crime lab screwed up or intentionally faked the results?"

"I think it's not only possible but probable," Reid said. "The picture proves he's alive. We need to find him and put an end to this."

"I want in," Georgia demanded. "I don't care about protocol or teaching. I don't care about my job at this point. I want my son back, and I want Chaz Capello in jail where he belongs. I want the mole uncovered at the NYPD."

Emily sighed, then straightened her shoulders. "No," she denied. "You're the victim of a crime."

"I'm not asking your permission," Georgia interrupted in a deadly calm tone. "I'm his mother. I will not sit back and wait for you to find him."

"Georgia," Spencer began and jerked when she turned wrathful blue eyes on him.

"NO!" She almost shouted. "Don't say it, Dr. Reid. If I must find Andy on my own, then I will. Do you understand me?"

"SSA Blue," Emily snapped. "Don't make me go to the head of your program. We appreciate your feelings but –"

"Spare me," George spat out. "Do you have children, Emily Prentiss?"

Emily shook her head, and Georgia's eye flashed. "I thought not. You have no idea what it's like to think your son is dead and then find out he's alive and living with a man who tried to kill you. I want Andy back, and I will do anything I have to do to keep that promise, even if it means I lose my badge. I'll go to the gates of Hell and back."

Georgia rose and left without another word. The team sat looking at each other in stunned disbelief until Garcia said. "Um, what do we do now."

"Garcia, we need the evidence from the original crime scene and SSA Blue's home in New York."

"Already on it," Garcia said as her fingers clattered over the keys on her laptop.

"I'm calling in a favor with the New York field office," Emily went on. "I want the evidence escorted back to Quantico by the FBI. We need to retest everything and determine if the mistake was intentional or deliberate."

"We're going to Baltimore to work the case as we would without preconceived notions. This may be the work of Chaz Capello, or it could be something else entirely."

"We need to look at the case from all angles." Rossi agreed.

Emily got to her feet. "Before we leave, I need to speak with you, Reid. In my office."

"Oh, someone's in trouble with the teacher," Rossi joked.

Reid ignored him and followed Emily. He saw her face when they entered her office, and she shut the door that he was in for a bit of a lecture.

"Reid, what's going on with you and SSA Blue?"

Spencer blinked at the blunt question even though he'd expected it. "Nothing," he said truthfully. "We met in the gym one day, and we've talked a few times in the commissary. I guess you'd say she's an acquaintance."

"Right," Emily said and sighed. "Spence. Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm not lying to you," he said indignantly. "I answered your question with the facts."

"Yes, the facts, but not the entire truth. I have eyes, and I see the way you look at her."

Reid tensed and responded irritably. "I told you I couldn't work this case, but _you_ insisted, Emily."

"I insisted when I thought you didn't want to work it because you know the victim, but now I'm wondering if you can be objective."

Reid let his shoulders relax, and he took in a few breaths and thought before he responded. Emily waited for him to talk. "I asked her out to dinner when we ran into each other this morning. Then we received the case. That's the whole truth."

"Did she say yes."

"Yeah, and I think she was as surprised by her response as I was when I blurted out the question."

"I'm happy for you," Emily said with a smile.

"Emily!"

"Look, Spence, I don't care about your personal life as long as it doesn't interfere. I believe that you can work this case, which is why I haven't pulled you off and given you something else to do. Don't make me regret that decision, especially after the Barnes debacle."

"That's why you told Georgia she couldn't be a part of the investigation."

"Yes, partly, but also because she is a victim. You know she can't be objective."

"I know, but I also know that if she wants to go and find her son, we can't stop her."

"I realize that," Emily said and blew out a breath. "I need your full concentration, Reid. Can you do that?"

"I promise I will maintain a professional distance." Reid stood up. "May I go back to work?"

"Yes," Emily said. "We're short on time. We're already past the point where seventy-five percent of children abducted by strangers are killed."

"Then you think it was someone other than Charles Capello."

"I'm not ready to make that determination because we need more information."

"Agreed."

"Let's find it," Emily said, and together they left to find Andy Capello and get him back to his mother.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer: see my profile**_

SSA Blue strode into her office, ignoring every agent she met on the way. She slammed the door so hard, it rocked on its hinges. She dropped into her office chair and reached for Andy's photograph. The cold surface of the glass covering the picture felt like a coating of ice against the tips of her fingers.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and tears filled her eyes. "I'm sorry I believed everyone when they told me you were dead. I should've known better."

Spencer Reid's face popped into her mind, unbidden as an unreasonable, burning anger rose in her chest. He hadn't bothered to defend her reasoning that she should be with the team looking for Andy. He'd shown _zero_ loyalty. Well, that's what she got for trusting a man with eyes that reminded her of her son.

Georgia refused to listen to the voice of reason in her head that said it _wasn't_ Dr. Reid's fault, since he'd known her for only a couple of months, and they'd spoken exactly three times before everything went to hell. Why did she expect him to leap to her defense against his team and his boss? Paying attention to that logical voice only increased her rage, so she returned her gaze to Andy's photograph.

Her hand gripped the frame of the photo so hard her fingers cramped. "I promise I'll find you even if the entire FBI tries to stop me."

She let go of the photo and called up her email. She sent a short note to her boss claiming illness and that she'd be taking several days of personal time. She knew he wouldn't be happy with her, but she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was finding her son and finally making Charles pay.

Georgia reached for her cell phone and quickly researched flights going to JFK in New York. After she booked her flight, she called a number and spoke with an old friend.

"Hey," she said when the familiar voice answered. "It's me."

"Jesus H Christ," said the voice. "It's been _forever_. How the hell are ya, George?"

"Something's happened, but I can't talk about it on the phone. I'm coming into JFK in about four hours."

"Say no more. I'll pick you up."

"No, better I catch a cab. Meet you at the usual place."

"Still paranoid," said her friend.

"Got to be, but I'll explain when I see you."

"Watch your ass, George."

"Same goes," Georgia said and disconnected the call.

She grabbed her bag and started for the door, she turned back after a moment staring at the closed exit then picked up the photo on her desk. She kissed the glass covering over Andy's face and left without another glance back.

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Luke and JJ entered the Capello residence together and stopped first at the crime scene. The coppery stench of blood soaked into the carpet, mixed with bodily fluids released at death hung like a veil over the room despite an open window and door. JJ grimaced as she snapped on protective gloves. The smear of blood from the fatal head wound told a story backed up by the CSI report.

"Hello," greeted the officer at the door. "Officer Crane, first on scene. The sarge said you'd want to talk to me."

"Yes, can you tell us what you saw when you arrived."

The officer, who reminded JJ of a young Prince Phillip, led them into the house. "The mother lay just here inside the door, her feet facing the door and her head facing the entryway."

"Someone bashed her from behind, but there's no sign of forced entry."

"Could be she knew her assailant," Luke commented as he surveyed the room. "No sign of struggle and whoever killed her was strong enough to take her out with one blow."

"That was my first thought," said officer Crane. "We cleared the house, and she was the only one we found. We didn't know about the boy until we did a knock-on-doors with the neighbors."

"I take it no one saw anything."

"Nope, the next-door neighbors to the right and left weren't home. We talked to a Grace Kelman, whose around sixty and lives with her husband, four doors down. They knew of the boy, said he was a nice little guy, but they barely had contact with him. Other neighbors said the same that they never saw the Capello's out and about in the neighborhood, or if they did, they didn't socialize. That's all I found out."

"Thanks, Officer Crane.

"You're welcome, ma'am. I'll stick at the door until you're through here."

JJ and Luke stepped into the living area. "Takes guts to pull this off, even in the morning when you're mostly certain the neighbors are off to work. He knocks on the door, certain that he'll get in without a problem, but what if someone drove by at the wrong time."

"She goes to the front door and lets in someone she knows well enough to turn her back. The un-sub strikes, kills her, and takes Andy. All of it happens in broad daylight without a witness. There's something not right."

"Yeah, this is a nice neighborhood, but not ritzy enough for a gate, or guard. If you're a former crime lord, hiding in plain sight, would you pick this neighborhood? Why not buy a mansion on some huge compound and lock yourself away?"

"You're cocky," JJ suggested. "From what we know about Charles Capello, that fits the bill."

"He got away clean in New York," Luke said. "His victim, SSA Blue thinks her child is dead. No one's looking for a boy that matches that description. What does he have to fear?"

"Yeah, makes me think he had nothing to do with this."

"Me too," Luke said. "Why mess with the perfect setup?"

"Unless," JJ said. "Maybe SSA Blue was closing in on him, and he realized he'd need to disappear again."

"Pretty risky considering the FBI's always called in on abductions, especially child abductions. He's a wanted man, JJ. Why kill your girlfriend and try to make it look like a kidnapping? He had to know that SSA Blue might get wind that her child is alive. What would you do if it were Henry or Michael?"

"I'd _never_ stop looking," JJ said immediately. "If I thought my child was dead and then found out he was alive, I'd come unglued."

"Yeah, makes sense. You think Blue's telling us everything she knows."

"If I were her, I'd keep it close to the vest."

"She has to know we only want to help."

JJ shook her head. "No offense, Luke, but you're not a mother. The most dangerous animal in the world is a mother protecting her child. Trust me, I know."

Luke studied her for a moment. "Yeah, I can see that you do. Did something happen?"

"I'll tell you about it later."

"Well, let's look at the rest of the house, then meet up with the team."

"Agreed."

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Emily and Reid entered the police station in downtown Baltimore an hour later. A harried-looking black man with a receding hairline, and a face that spoke of years on the force, met them as they arrived. Lines radiated from the corners of his mouth, and his dark eyes were tired and haunted. Then, he smiled, and his face completely changed. "I'm glad you came," he said as he shook hands with Emily. "I'm Det. Darnell Richmond."

Emily introduced herself and Reid "is there a place we can set up?"

"Yes, sorry for the confusion, but with a nine-hour head-start, I feel like we're playing catchup in a losing game."

"I wish I could say you're wrong."

They congregated in a small room with a roundtable, several chairs, a phone, and a whiteboard. "You said on the phone that the missing boy belongs to an FBI agent and she's believed him dead for a year."

"Yes," Emily said. "We know it sounds like something out of a daytime drama series, but we did facial recognition on the photo you sent us, and the computer says it's a match."

"Damn," said Det. Richmond. "Have you talked to the biological mother?"

"Yes," Emily nodded. She filled him in on the details, and he whistled. "Good, God, I can't imagine how she must feel. I have a couple of kids and if anything like that happened to them or their mother… I might forget who I am."

"Understood," Emily agreed. "Still, we can't rule out that someone outside the Capello crime family's out for revenge. The un-sub could be a preferential offender with a liking for kids the age of Andrew."

"You're right," said Det. Richmond. "I've taken the liberty of putting together a prize-winning list of sex offenders who might fit the bill."

"Good, but first we need to work up the profile, and we'll be able to winnow down the list."

Det. Richmond nodded. "In the meantime. I've got a snitch with a nose for all the latest child abductions. He's harmless," the detective added. "He fancies himself a crime fighter, but he has a liking for coke. I arrested him, then realized he's more useful to me on the street, so he's working it off as a CI."

"Good. Dr. Reid and I will stay here and begin the profile. The rest of my team will meet after they've been to the scene and the coroner."

"I've got the first on the scene with Agent Jareau and Agent Alvez at the Capello residence." Det. Richmond said as he hurried from the room.

Emily turned back to Reid who'd remained silent during the exchange. "What's your gut telling you, Spence."

"Don't know for sure. I need more."

"Let's start with what we know. If the child wasn't taken by a parent, or family member looking to throw a wrench into a custody battle, then it's a stranger, and that means -what, ransom or pedophilia."

"It's been nine hours and no contact, so I'd rule out kidnapping for profit," Reid said quietly. "That leaves a sexual motive and since it has been nine hours… then we know what that means."

"Yes," Emily said, and her dark eyes went blank. "I don't want to think about turning this into a body recovery for SSA Blue."

"I know what it's like to believe that someone you care for is dead and then they come back."

"Yes, you do."

"I'm sorry," Reid said with a sad smile. "I didn't mean to open old wounds. You know it's over and done for me, has been for years."

"I know," Emily said. "Because I understand, I refuse to make it worse for SSA Blue. That's why I didn't want her here."

"You didn't want her to see him if – "Reid stopped because he couldn't say the words.

"I get it, Spence ."

"Thank you for that, Emily."

"You're welcome. After all, what are friends for," she pointed out with a tired smile.

Reid grinned at her. "Okay, let's work it out. We assume that the kidnapper is in this for non-monetary motives. He's organized, patient and most likely prefers children under five. We should have Garcia concentrate on crimes involving children from three to five in and around Baltimore in the last five years."

"Good," Emily agreed. "We'll look at men over thirty because this feels like it took planning and that means he's not young and impulsive."

"I agree."

Reid plucked his phone from his pocket. "Hey, Garcia," he greeted when she answered.

"Hey, gorgeous gray-matter. How's Baltimore?

"It's good. Listen, we need you to dig into crimes against children between the ages of two to five in the Baltimore area. Concentrate on the sexually motivated offenses."

"Ick," Garcia said. "I _hate_ it when you call with requests like that."

"Sorry, but we need more information."

"I know, I wish it weren't necessary. I'll contact CACU and see if anyone's on their radar."

"Thanks."

"Anything for you, sweet cheeks."

Reid could help but smile. "I bet you say that to all the guys."

"Nope, just you. Gotta go, I'll hit you back when I have something," she said and hung up on him.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: see my profile

Georgia cursed under her breath as the cabbie slid in and out of traffic like a skier on an Olympic downhill race. He drove with the confidence of one well used to the Brooklyn rush hour, which meant too fast for the number of cars on the street, and too little use of the brakes. The tires screeched as he dodged another car and swore loudly at the driver in a Brooklyn drawl that made her heart sing despite the circumstances.

"Oh, fuck it," shouted the driver when a huge delivery truck cut him off and nearly caused the cab to slam into the back of the vehicle. "Where'd you learn to drive, asshole?"

George smiled, then swore again when she looked at her watch. In ten minutes she had to be across town for her meeting with an old friend, and he didn't like to be kept waiting. "Shit," she said under her breath and sighed.

The delivery truck crawled forward for half a block, and then the road opened, and the cabbie shot into a space between a huge limo, and a bus. He maneuvered to the other side of the street, turned right despite a crowd of people attempting to cross, and shot down the road.

Fifteen minutes later, she paid the cabbie, and hurried into an old Irish style pub that most people had forgotten existed except for the cops who drank, played pool and conversed over Guinness and other on tap beer and the best whiskey found in the city of New York.

As soon as she stepped inside the door, the smell of the place hit her and set off a memory that she'd buried for years.

" _George, you gonna stare at the door, or are you gonna have a drink and a game of darts."_

Georgia nearly turned and fled as she heard Anna's laughter echoing in her head. She could almost see her partner and best friend, sitting on her favorite stool at the end of the polished mahogany bar, with a beer mug in her hand and laughter in her dark eyes.

"George!"

SSA Blue blinked, and smiled as a man, large enough to wrestle a full grown black bear strode through the crowded bar toward her. Most of the patrons made room for him as he approached, but some of them eyed him with suspicion and fear. He ignored them and grabbed her into an enthusiastic hug that lifted her off her feet. He was midnight black, six feet eight inches tall with shoulders wide enough to substitute for Atlas on a rough day. He had a wide, crooked nose, black eyes that glittered instead of gleamed, and a wide mouth full of brilliant white teeth. He'd lost all his hair, and his arms and legs were like tree trunks. He reminded George of the actor, Michael Clarke Duncan until he spoke, and the similarity ended.

"Larry," she said over the noise, but not loud enough to draw more attention their way. "How are you?"

"Good, but you're not. What the hell is going on, George? Why did you insist we meet in the lion's den?"

"Because I know Jerry hates this place."

Larry nodded his head and frowned. "Come on. I got a table in the back."

She followed him to his table. Several old friends greeted her, but none tried to persuade her to join them. Larry's presence and her jump to the FBI made her a bit of a pariah in the NYPD.

"I see some things never change," she sighed loudly as they sat.

"Nope, the old crowd likes to hang on to grudges. They're jealous of you, George."

"Why? My son is dead, no – that's not right. He's alive, Larry."

Her former commanding officer narrowed his eyes. "That can't be right."

"It is. Somehow, Charles faked his death and I'm sure Jerry had something to do with it."

Larry whistled. "Well, shit, George."

"That's what I said." Her eyes filled with tears and she wiped them away before any of the cops who kept covert eyes on them, noticed.

"You know we're being watched," Larry said. "Jerry's gonna hear about it."

SSA Blue nodded, grimly. "Best reason to meet here. I want him to know I'm talking to you."

"Your walking a dangerous line," Larry growled. "Just like when you were under my command. Still stubborn as a mule in the July heat. Don't be _stupid_ , George."

"I want my son," George said as someone whooped and hollered at the dart board. "I've believed him dead for a year. Every day I cried, and I blamed myself for not seeing what was right in front of my face. How can I live if I don't do everything I can to get him back?"

"I think you need to loop in the FBI about Jerry."

Georgia glared at him over the beer Larry had ordered for her. "I don't need profilers, Larry. They think some pervert took Andy. I know that's bullshit."

"You hope it's bullshit," Larry corrected. "What if the FBI is right?"

"They're not," Georgia argued.

"Keep your voice down," Larry said in a tone she remembered from her rookie days. "You have to allow for the possibility."

George simply stared at him until he sighed and hunched his shoulders. "Your biggest problem is that you don't work well with others. You think you have all the answers. I'll remind you what happened the last time you disobeyed orders."

"I didn't call you for a trip down memory lane," Georgia snapped.

"Sit _down_ ," Larry ordered as she began to rise.

Georgia flinched at the fire in his eyes and dropped back to her seat. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked the wall.

"Damn it, George," Larry began. "I'm trying to help you. If there is corruption in the crime lab and the NYPD, we need to find it and get rid of it."

"Don't you think I know that," Georgia retorted.

"I don't think you do. I think you've got blinders because of Chaz Capello."

Georgia sighed. " _Please_ help me, Larry."

He stared at her for so long, she thought he might say no and then she'd have to go at Jerry alone. Finally, he grinned at her, but it was the grin of a shark about to strike. "I'll help you. Heaven knows that I've wanted to take Jerry out for years. He's a dirty cop, but smart and connected. This won't be easy, George."

"Don't you think I know that."

Larry sighed and sat back in his seat. "You're scaring me, George. Your father wouldn't like this."

"Leave dear old dad out of this," Georgia snapped. "I'm not here to talk about my perfect father and his spotless career. He blamed me for Andy's death – no," she held up a hand. "He blamed me, and his grief blinded him to the truth. He was a talented detective. It he hadn't been so upset with me, he might've seen through Jerry. Now, he's dead too, and there's no way to make up the last year without Andy."

"David loved you, George. He was so proud of you when you made detective. I saw him, more than once, crying at your hospital bed when you were in that coma. He was terrified of losing you."

Georgia clasped her hands together so hard, the knuckles went white and her face worked as she swallowed hard. "I can't think about him, Larry. I need to focus on Andy."

"All right," Larry agreed, and his dark eyes softened. "Let's go over what you have."

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Reid paused in reading a stack of sex offender files and rubbed the bridge of his nose. So far, he hadn't found anything that remotely fit the profile of a preferential offender with a liking for four-year-old boys like Andrew Capello.

He sighed long and loud and Emily looked up from her file. "What is it?"

"We're looking in the wrong place?"

Emily studied him for so long, he looked away from her and returned to his files. "Is that your gut talking to you?"

"Don't," Reid said as he kept his gaze on the file. "Don't ask me if I've lost my objectivity. I _told_ you," he said as his voice rose just a bit. "I told you I couldn't work this case."

Emily didn't reply until Reid looked at her again, his expression expectant. "If you're trying to irritate me so that I'll agree with you, it won't work. You know me better than that."

Reid blew out a breath. "I'm sorry. There's something missing from the profile. I don't know what it is and it's got me a bit off balance."

Reid's phone chirped, and he answered, "Reid."

"Hello my gorgeous genius. I've got something for you."

"I'm putting you on speaker. Emily's here with me."

"My short stint in Cyber-Crime paid off because I have a friend who's been working covertly for a certain instructor and she has news for us."

"Tell us," Emily said.

"First, SSA Blue has flown the coop. She jumped ship about three hours after you left. She's in New York City."

"Damn it," Emily exclaimed.

"My contact said she has the identity of the mole inside the NYPD. SSA Blue believes he's the one that took Andy."

"Why?"

"I don't have the details, but the alleged mole's one Jerry O'Malley. He's forth generation Irish cop and he's a bit of a hero."

"Great," Emily said.

"Sorry to be the bearer of continued bad news, but I just heard from Agent Anderson. He can't find the original evidence for the Andrew Capello murder case."

"Someone doesn't want us to know what really happened, which speaks to a cover up."

"Agent Anderson's having a conversation with New York's Police Commissioner on our behalf."

"We need the footage from the evidence locker, and the logs going back to the day the evidence was added to the locker."

"Send the logs to me, Garcia," Spencer put in.

"Will do," Garcia assured him.

Ten minutes later, Detective Richmond entered the room and shut the door, hard enough to make the glass rattle. "I've got nothing from my CI."

"Glad you're finished. We've got confirmation this isn't a stranger kidnapping. The original evidence from Andrew Capello's homicide has gone missing from the New York Crime lab."

"Damn it," shouted Richmond. "How did _that_ happen? The NYC lab's nearly as secure as Fort Knox."

"Had to be an inside job," Reid put in. "I'm looking at the log book and our tech is going through the video."

Det. Richmond blinked as he watched Reid fly through the log book on Emily's tablet. "I'm sure you've heard this, a thousand times, but can you really read that fast?"

"Yes," Emily and Reid chorused, which made Richmond laugh.

"Good, because we need answers."

"Found it," Reid said and held out the tablet. "Two days ago, three hours before Andrew went missing, someone named Detective Julian Rivera signed the log book."

"We need to talk to him," Emily said.

Rossi, Tara, Luke, and Simms entered the conference area. "We've been to the crime scene and the morgue. No help with cause of death or the profile."

"We have a new lead. Someone took the original evidence from the Andrew Capello murder – or false homicide."

"Damn," Rossi exclaimed as Tara exchanged looks with Simms and Luke shook his head. "What is going on?"

"I don't know, but we need to rethink the profile and we need to go to New York. Let's get to the jet," Emily said.

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"All right," Emily began as the jet rose into the sunset and flew north east like a slow-moving bullet. "Let's talk it through."

"Andrew's the son of a crime boss and a former NYPD detective. He's the product of a violent rape. His mother nearly died while pregnant and his father faked his death."

Reid listened as Rossi laid it out for them. His thoughts went, unbidden, to Georgia and once again he marveled at her strength.

"It's a chess game," Reid said. "Andrew is the white king, SSA Blue is the white queen and Charles Capello is a black knight. He sees Andrew as a possession, something to conquer."

Emily looked at him and Declan flashed into her mind. Reid nodded imperceptibly, and Emily's smiled back at him. "Reminds me of Declan."

Luke, Tara, and Matt looked at each other. JJ explained the story of Declan and his Irish terrorist father. "It has some eerie parallels. We need to find Charles Capello."

"I have some ideas on that," Luke said. "Garcia," he addressed the open laptop.

"Newbie," she responded, but not with sarcasm.

The others grinned at him as he talked to Penelope about his idea. "We need a list of Charles Capello's cohorts. If we can find someone that has the inside track on his business, we could put some pressure on them."

"I'll hit you back when I have a name for you."

"Thanks, Garcia."

"Luke," Emily said after the laptop went black. "Contact some of your old friends on the fugitive task force. See if they have anything on Charles Capello. Keep it quiet. We have no idea who Jerry O'Malley's working with there, if anyone."

"Right, I'm on it."

"Reid, when we get to New York, I need you to concentrate on finding SSA Blue. We need to talk to her and you're the best one to smooth the way."

Reid opened, then closed his mouth when Emily gave him a look that said. "Don't argue."

"The rest of us will check in with the locals and hook up with Agent Anderson."

The flat screen beeped, and Garcia's face swam onto the screen. "Got the list for you, Alvez."

"Thanks, Garcia."

"Looks like we have a winner at the top of the list," Garcia began. "One Sonny Giovanni. He was one of Charles Capello's right hand men. He's in Rikers doing ten years for child molestation. He got immunity from murder and racketeering charges, but the molestation charges stuck because he picked the wrong kid. He went after a cop's kid and the thin blue line close ranks around him. He's in protective custody."

"JJ, you and Matt will go to Rikers and have a chat with Mr. Giovanni."

"Love to," JJ said with a disgusted grin. "I haven't been slumming for a while."

Reid listened to everything going on around him as Emily asked Tara and Rossi to meet with Agent Anderson."

"I'll smooth the way with the locals. They will not like us coming in and accusing one of their own, so we need to tread carefully.

Reid left his seat next to JJ and walked to the back of the plane as if he wanted more coffee. He pulled his phone from his pocket and without stopping to wonder why he felt the need to hide, he dialed Garcia's number.

"Hey," he greeted. "I need you to do me a favor, Garcia."


	10. Chapter 10

**_Disclaimer: see my profile._**

Emily took in her surroundings at the New York Crime Lab as a man in his mid-forties wearing a white lab coat escorted her to a large room with two windows facing the street, an oval-shaped table, four chairs and a phone. He left her there with the words, "Detective Mapps will be right with you."

Emily sat back and stared out the window, her eyes drawn to the building across the street. She shook her head as thoughts of what it must be like living in a huge, bustling, noisy, dirty, and famous city like New York City. Well, it wasn't much different from London, except in size and accents of the locals.

Emily looked at her watch six times in the fifteen minutes she waited for Detective Melinda Mapps. When the detective finally entered the room, she wore a harried and annoyed expression on her face and in her dark brown eyes.

"Good afternoon," Emily greeted in her best finishing school voice, and as she hoped Melinda's eyes narrowed. "I'm SSA Emily Prentiss, of the BAU."

"Yes," said the detective as she reluctantly shook Emily's hand. "I don't have much time for pleasantries, SSA Prentiss."

"Understood. I know the stresses and worries that come with running a unit."

"I doubt the BAU and the NYC Crime Lab are the same when it comes to management," said Detective Mapps.

"Yes, I suppose you're correct. I'm sure a lab as large as this one takes a huge staff and reams of paperwork."

"SSA Prentiss, why don't we cut to the chase. I know why you're here and I _don't_ have an answer for you regarding the Andrew Capello homicide. It was before my time. I took over six months ago after this lab's previous head went down for evidence tampering. Perhaps you should talk to him."

"We've tried," Emily said and remained in her chair, despite Detective Mapps remaining obstinately on her feet. "His lawyer's blocking us. He claims former Detective Harris refuses to see us, claiming his case is going to trial next week and our questioning him might compromise it."

Detective Mapps shrugged. "Look, they promoted from another crime lab. I have no idea what went on here during Harris's tenure. I can only assure you that I'm cleaning house. We've had to fire two crime scene techs since I took over. Why don't you speak to them?"

"Again, we've tried. My technical analyst can't seem to find them. They've both disappeared off the face of the earth in the last week. That concerns me, Detective, greatly."

"I had no idea," Detective Mapps said as she finally took a chair across the table with her back to the windows.

Emily leaned back in her chair. "I can't say I'm surprised you don't know. How many bosses keep track of their former employees, especially the ones they have to fire."

Detective Mapps sighed. "I wish I could help you, SSA Prentiss. I know the story of the Capello Crime family. I'd love to see Charles Capello where he belongs."

"Is there anything you might have on record that wasn't in the evidence locker."

"We have computer backup, but I don't think it will help you. If someone tampered with the evidence, they would've made it disappear, too."

"You don't know my Technical Analyst. I'd like for you to give her remote access to your files."

Detective Mapps smiled, and it was like the smile of someone that just made a connection. "I assume your Technical Analyst will hack in if I say no."

Emily shrugged. "I didn't say it."

Detective Mapps laughed. "All right, SSA Prentiss. We'll do it your way."

"Thank you."

Detective Mapps pursed her lips. "Wait," she said when Emily began to rise. "I just thought of something you might find useful, especially if your Technical Analyst is as good as you say. When I fired one of the lab techs, we searched his locker and found a thumb drive. It's encrypted, and we can't break it. He worked on the Andrew Capello homicide investigation."

"Do you have it?"

"Yes, it's in the evidence locker and whoever stole the file on Andrew Capello would've missed it because it's logged as an IAB case file number."

Emily smiled. "Thank you, Detective."

"Come with me," said Detective Mapps. "I'm going to remove it personally and sign it over to you."

"I'm right behind you."

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Emily dialed Garcia as she hurried to find a cab on the crowded and noisy Manhattan street. "Hey," she said loudly. "I got something for you."

"Where are you?" Garcia called back. "I can barely hear you."

"I'm sorry, Pen, but I'm in Manhattan trying to hail a cab back to our hotel."

"Couldn't they give you a ride."

"Nope, too busy, but I did get an encrypted thumb drive I need you to break as fast as you can. I met with Anderson, and he's already at the airport. He'll be there in two hours."

"Okay, I'll get right on it. You still want me to go through the crime lab computers."

"Yes, but only until that thumb drive arrives, then you shift priorities, got it."

"Sure do, boss lady."

"Gotta go," Emily said loudly. "I'll see you soon."

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Reid poured a hot, steaming cup of awful cop shop brew, and headed back to the conference room, where he studied every piece of evidence collected against Charles Capello. Tara and Luke had stacks of files from the evidence room, as well.

"I'm getting the picture of a charming monster," Tara said with disgust as she threw down her manila file folder and sat back in her chair.

Her white jacket worn over a navy-blue shirt with matching trousers stood out in a room decorated in tones of brown, and dull bronze. Luke nodded in agreement with Tara's outburst and sighed. "He's slick, intelligent and a misogynistic psychopath."

"If Andy had been a girl, he would've left her alone," Reid added in a tone that spoke of seeing it all before. "Georgia and law enforcement kept the boy away from him. Making her think Andy's dead is classic."

"Yes, but how do we find them," Luke spoke up from the other end of the table.

"You're the fugitive chaser," Rossi teased as he entered the room. "What's your gut telling you?"

"That I'm losing my touch. The FBI, Interpol, and NYPD have chased this guy for years, and yet he was there under our noses, for who knows how long."

"He had help," Rossi pointed out. "We have to confirm that Detective Jerry O'Malley's the mole."

Emily walked into the room with their NYPD detective, Jorge Sandoval. "I've been on the phone with my Captain for an hour. She's not happy about Jerry O'Malley, but she's agreed to speak to the commissioner on the condition we keep it in this room."

Emily shut the door to the conference room and nodded as they took seats at the table. "Yes. She thinks someone will tip him and we can't afford for him to bolt.

"Lucky for him, he's not in this house," Detective Sandoval said with a grim smile on his triangular shaped face. "I believe in the thin blue line, but not when it comes to protecting dirty cops."

"We have proof." Tara inquired.

"No, but I'm hoping it's on the thumb drive I sent to Garcia."

When the others simply stared at her, Emily shook her head and said. "Sorry, I forgot to tell you. Detective Mapps at the crime lab found a thumb drive when they searched a locker belonging to a recently fired employee. It's encrypted, and the employee worked on the Andrew Capello homicide investigation."

"Sounds like we caught a break," Rossi said.

"Why don't we bring in Detective O'Malley," Detective Sandoval suggested. "Make him sweat."

"Not a good idea at this point," Rossi said. "We don't have proof, and he knows it. He'll clamor for his advocate, who'll get him released and then we'll never see him again."

"You're right," Emily said. "We have to play the waiting game. We need the information on that thumb drive."

"Maybe JJ and Matt can get Sonny to talk, and we won't have to wait."

"If they use the bait I suggested," Detective Sandoval said. "He will."

"You're right," Reid spoke up. "He won't be able to resist."

"Let's break for now and grab something to eat," Emily said.

"I know that perfect place to relax, where no one will pay any attention to a group of feds," said Sandoval."

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"You were right about low key," Tara said to Sandoval as they took their seats in a large, U-shaped booth at the back of the diner. "How did you find this place?"

"My brother has a passion for comfort food and old-fashioned diners. He found it."

Reid took his seat to the left of Emily and at the end of the north facing curve of the U. He looked around at the chocolate leather upholstered booths that lined the edges of the dining area. Tables and chairs sat in squares throughout the remaining space in the building. As his eyes roamed the area, he realized that nearly all the tables held police, all in plain clothes.

"This is a police hangout."

"That's right," Sandoval agreed. "My brother's a detective out of the 1-5. We come here twice a month."

"What's good?" Rossi asked.

"I love the chicken pot pie, but they also have excellent prime rib, roast, meatloaf, and fish. I like the salmon.

Reid listened as the others discussed their preferences His thoughts turned to Georgia and to Andy. If they found him before Georgia did something to get fired, then maybe he'd finally get to know her.

"What're you ordering, Reid?" Rossi asked.

"What?"

"What're you ordering," Rossi repeated, and Reid didn't like the knowing look in Dave's eyes.

"Don't know yet," he said and stuck his head in the menu as he told himself to stop thinking about Georgia.

Reid's phone rang and saved him from having to look the team in the eyes. It was Garcia, and he nearly sighed with relief.

"Hey," he greeted her as the others placed their orders with the extremely tall, and thin server with dark eyes and a brilliant smile.

"I found the information you asked for, Sweet Cheeks."

"Good, where is she?"

"About three miles east of you in a restored brownstone."

"Good," he said. "Send me the address."

"You go it. Hey, Spencer."

"What?"

"Take it easy with her, okay. She just found out her son's still alive."

"I don't have any intention of interrogating her," he said in a low tone as their server approached him with a questioning look.

"I know, but you have a lot to process gorgeous gray matter."

"No, I don't, Garcia. It's fine. Thank you for caring."

"You're welcome. Let me know how it goes."

"I will."

He hung up and realized that everyone was staring at him. "What?"

"You going to order," Rossi wanted to know.

"Ah, no. I have to go. Garcia found SSA Blue, and I should go talk to her."

"You want company," Emily asked.

"No, I'm fine. I'll get her to come in and cooperate."

"I have no doubt," Emily said. "Go."

Reid nodded and left without saying goodbye much to the knowing smiles of the team. "You sure he can handle this," Luke asked Emily.

"I have every confidence that he'll do what needs to be done."

"I'm not sure that's a good thing," Rossi observed with a frown.

"Let worry about lunch for right now," Emily suggested. "Reid can handle one FBI agent alone."

Still, her eyes tracked Reid to the door, and she wondered for a long minute if he could handle another human being in such obvious pain.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

Iron barred doors clanged open and shut as buzzers activated the solid metal portals leading from one secure section of Rikers to another down a south leading hallway. JJ's nose wrinkled at the smell of bleach and other cleaning chemicals as prisoners in orange jumpsuits cleaned the floors. She stepped around one man whose hair matched his jumpsuit and made him appear completely orange. He smirked at her and made a rude gesture accompanied by the words, "Hello, Clarisse," and his attempt at the hissing/slurping noise made famous by Hannibal Lecter.

"Back off, Herbert," said the guard accompanying them to the protective custody wing of the prison. "Or you'll spend a few hours in solitary, and I _know_ how much you'd hate that."

Herbert shot him the finger and went silent as they moved away. "New friend," Matt teased JJ.

JJ shook her head and choked back a laugh. "I never get used to the grey walls, and the smell, and the feeling of controlled chaos."

"It _is_ all that," said the guard. "I tell myself that they're human too, but humans that belong here because they made choices. I don't believe in all that psychobabble crap, that they had terrible childhoods, so they don't know what they're doing. We all make choices," he finished resolutely.

Matt raised his eyebrows at JJ, and she shook her head as the guard opened another door with a buzz and a metallic clang. "Here we are, the privacy suite," He quipped and opened the ordinary door which led into a small, square room with gray walls, floors, and a metal table with three chairs in the center. In one chair sat a small man with receding brown hair, light brown eyes, glasses, and orange jumpsuit. He had the air of an accountant waiting for clients instead of a convicted pedophile.

"Push this button if you need me, or when you finish," instructed the guard as he indicated a red button set into the wall at the left of the door.

"Well," began Sonny Giovanni. "What can _I_ do for the FBI?"

He sat back in his chair as if it were the most comfortable perch in the world. He smirked at them and his faced crinkled in a way that exuded trust. JJ shivered a little and wondered if his victims had found him trustworthy, too, until it was too late.

"Charles Capello," Matt said and watched as Sonny's face continued to smile, but the eyes behind his horned-rimmed glasses lost their friendly light. His arms crossed over his chest as he flicked his gaze to the barred window.

"What about him?"

"Where is he?"

"How the _hell_ would I know. I've been locked inside this fine establishment for the last two years."

His heavy Brooklyn accent grew more pronounced with each word. His eyes moved back to them, and he smirked again. "What do you want with Chaz?"

"We'd like to locate him," JJ said. "Tie up a loose end. He's the only one left from the old days, and he's a cop-killer. We don't _like_ cop killers."

"Sorry, but I left that life behind me. I'm a model prisoner, ask anyone. I go to all my shrink appointments, and she says I'm makin' excellent progress in comin' to terms with my anti-social behavior."

"Is that so," Matt inquired. "Then you won't mind telling us everything you know about Capello and where he might be."

"I told ya, I don't know. Are ya deaf _and_ stupid?"

"And I thought you made progress in – how did you put it – your anti-social behavior," JJ said, sarcastically. "I don't see much progress, do you, Matt?"

"Nope."

"Maybe we should have a word with your doctor."

Sonny brayed laughter and reminded JJ of a mule her uncle kept on his farm. It was an ugly sound full of demented amusement. Then, he suddenly sat up straight, schooled his face into serious lines and took off his glasses. "You don't scare me, little girl. I've looked the devil in the eyes and lived to tell the tale."

"If that's so, you won't mind if we pull a few strings to remove your status as a protected prisoner. You'd like general pop," JJ said coyly. "I _know_ they'd like you."

Sonny went as pale as new cream. "You can't do that. My lawyer – "

"Stop," Matt held up a hand. "Maybe we can work something out. Let me converse with my partner."

JJ and Matt went to a corner of the room and spoke in whispers for several minutes. Sonny strained to hear them, but his hearing wasn't what it had been in the past, and he couldn't make out their conversation.

"Sonny," Matt said as he and JJ returned to the table. "May I call you Sonny?"

Giovanni nodded grimly. "What choice do I have, Mr. F.B.I?"

"As our friend the philosophical guard likes to point out, there are always choices in life. For instance," Matt opened the file folder he'd brought with him. "You can choose whether or not to help us locate Charles Capello and save a life. That'd grease wheels with the parole board when you come up for it. "

Giovanni shrugged. "That's three long years away."

Matt removed the photo that lay upside down in the folder. "If you don't want to assist the FBI or find the man that left you here to rot, will you help this little boy."

Matt showed the photo and fought down the urge to strangle Giovanni with his bare hands when the pedophile's eyes lit up at the sight of Andrew Capello. Sonny licked his lips and said as he stared at the photo like a man dying of thirst in the desert stares at a mirage of an oasis in the distance. "Who's this _beautiful_ child?" Sonny's voice crooned like a father telling a child a bedtime story.

Matt held the photo just out of Sonny's reach and hoped his hands didn't betray his rage as he fought to make them steady.

"This is Charles's son. Someone kidnapped him this morning. Help us find him, and we'll speak to the parole board."

"No," Giovanni said in disbelief. "I heard this kid got whacked a year ago."

"Then you _are_ in communication with the old life." JJ pounced.

Giovanni waved away her accusation. "So, what? I hear things all the time. This kid is dead. Nice try, though."

"He's not dead. Your former boss faked his death to take him away from his mother, also a former police officer and now an FBI agent. She's not happy that Capello took Andy away from her. I'm sure she'd have a word for the parole board, especially if we tell her exactly how you looked at this picture of her little boy. She might pay you a visit."

Sonny winced, and redness spread into his cheeks. "I ain't looking at the kid any special way. My doctor says I've got it under control."

"Did she?" JJ said, lacing her voice with contempt. "If that's true then you won't mind helping us find him."

"I don't know where Chaz or his brat is," Giovanni spat.

"Then we're done," JJ said, and she began to get to her feet.

"Wait! I said I don't know where they are, but I can give ya the name of the cop-rat that lives in Chaz's pocket."

"How would you know that?" Matt said with boredom lacing his voice.

"I don't know the details, but I know he has an eye on Chaz."

"Who's the rat," Matt asked.

"Jerry O'Malley." Sonny laughed again as if he'd just told the mother of all jokes. "He's a fuckin cop! You believe it. Been under your noses for years, Mr. FBI."

Matt looked over at JJ, and she nodded. "Well, thanks for nothing, Mr. Giovanni. Jerry O'Malley isn't news. We know all about him. I'm afraid that means we'll be unavoidably busy on parole day."

JJ nodded and grinned at Sonny who burst up from his chair like a man who'd sat on a live electrical wire. "You can't do that."

"We can and we will," Matt said calmly. "We don't make deals with child molesters. Count yourself lucky we don't do everything we can to get your protective custody revoked."

JJ winked at the hapless man and shook her head in disgust when he put his head on the table and began to sob like a little girl.

"Let's get out of here," Matt said.

"Fine by me."

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Spencer Reid watched the traffic outside the window of his cab. Unlike the cabby who'd driven Georgia Blue to her meeting, his driver was sedate, polite and law abiding to the point that Reid wanted to pull out his hair.

"You new in town, honey," said the driver, who looked about sixty years old with a wrinkled tanned face, and her grey hair pulled back and under a cap. She wore huge sunglasses and gloves with missing fingers. Her brown cashmere sweater hung off her skinny body like a sail, and her blue jeans were threadbare and faded nearly white. She smiled at him with crooked, yellow teeth in the rearview mirror.

"No," he lied and looked out the window.

"You don't look like a native. You're too polite."

Spencer tried to ignore her, but she didn't seem to care. "I know who you are," she said delightedly. "You're that guy from that FBI television show. What's it called – Profiler Minds."

Spencer's eyebrows went up despite his urge to tell her to shut up. He looked nothing like the star of a television show, and he nearly said so before he remembered he was trying to ignore her.

The cabby went on about the show, her cats, her aching back, and her no-good ex-husband who'd run off with her best friend thirty years before. He was about to tell her to pull over and let him out, that he'd walk, when she pulled up to a converted brownstone. "Here we are, deary."

Reid paid her, but she refused to let him go before he signed a tattered sheet of paper she happened to have on the passenger seat. He tried to tell her he wasn't the star of that show, but she refused to believe it. He signed the name of the actor on the sheet in an illegible scribble and escaped.

At the top of the stoop, he reached out and buzzed for Apartment 4. "Who is it?"

"Spencer Reid."

There was a long pause before the door buzzed and clicked. Spencer opened it and walked up the stairs to the second floor. The brownstone looked like someone had finished remodeling it only hours ago. The carpet, paint, and the stained wooden handrail all gleamed, and shone like new. The building was nearly silent, which told him someone had installed sound-proofing when they remodeled.

When he entered the second-floor hallway, the door to number four stood open and Georgia greeted him with a scowl. "How did you find me?"

"It wasn't difficult. If you want to remain incognito, don't use credit."

Georgia blocked his entrance until he said. "Garcia and your friend in Cyber Crime tracked you down. Would you like full details, because I'm sure they'd be happy to share the process with you."

Georgia finally stood aside and let him in. "Damn you," she said.

"Hello to you, too."

"I don't want you here," Georgia snapped as he looked around the room.

Georgia watched him take in the modern furnishings, all glass and metal. The white walls covered in paintings down by a creative mind that lacked the talent to sell his work. It was a long room with the living area toward the street and the kitchen area in the back. A closed door led to the right. Probably the bedroom, Reid thought.

"You seen enough," Georgia said.

"Enough to know this isn't your place."

"Not surprising considering I live in Alexandria, just like you."

Spencer refused to show his surprise that she knew where he lived. "Still," he pointed at the red robe she wore over white silk pajamas. "You're comfortable here. You're staying with a friend?"

"Yes, but she's out of town for the next week. I'm here alone. It's safer that way."

Reid turned back to her and noticed that her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, she didn't wear slippers and her hands were trembling. "I want to help," he said.

"No, you're here to make sure I don't go rogue again."

Reid watched her blue eyes flash at him with a fire that made his stomach tingle. "I'd say too late. You're already rogue. Emily told you to stay away."

"Did you think I would?" Georgia flung the words at him, like a challenge.

"No, I was sure you wouldn't," Reid admitted. "May I sit?"

"No," Georgia spat out. "I don't want to engage in the niceties with you. I'm only here for a shower, a couple hours sleep and then I'm going after my son."

"Fine," Reid said and turned for the door. "You want to go after him without back-up or a plan, be my guest."

"I have a plan."

Reid swung back, and despite no invitation, he sat on the white leather couch. "I'd love to hear it."

" _No_. Get out!"

Reid sat back, crossed his legs, and said. "I'll leave when you tell me why you think I don't understand what it means to suffer loss."


	12. Chapter 12

_**Disclaimer: see my profile**_

Georgia shook her head and laughed bitterly. "I don't need your opinion, Dr. Reid."

Reid simply sat back and stared at her with his arms spread out on the top of the extremely comfortable sofa. His eyebrows raised, and he smiled at her in a way that made her frown and glance at the door to the apartment. Reid's smile widened when Georgia returned her gaze to his face.

"You can leave if you like, but I don't think pajamas are the correct attire for the streets of Brooklyn."

"I hate you," Georgia snapped out.

Reid chuckled. "I know but let us get back to why you think you're the only one that understands suffering."

Georgia began to pace like a caged lion. "I never said that, Spencer. You're putting words in my mouth."

Reid nodded, and replied, quietly. "I'm sorry, but you left me no choice. I can't let you make another mistake, Georgia."

"I never knew you cared," Georgia spat out as she continued to restlessly pace the room from the window facing the street to the arch that led to the kitchen.

"I don't," he said, and she stopped in her tracks.

"I may not be one of the elite BAU profilers, but I _know_ when someone is lying to me."

Reid maintained eye contact with her and his beautiful, angel's face made her stop pacing and sit in a matching leather easy chair. The material crackled under her weight, and it was the only sound in the room except for the beating of her heart.

"All right, I do care, but only as a friend that doesn't want you to be hurt. I don't know you well enough for anything more."

Georgia found that she nodded in agreement despite the irrational disappointment in her gut at his honesty.

"Fine, say what you came here to say."

"I know what it's like to have someone you love taken, to believe them dead, only to learn that they survived."

Georgia's stomach knots tightened at this frank revelation, and her heart began to beat faster. "May I ask what happened?"

Reid shrugged. "It's not a secret. Years ago, Emily worked undercover for Interpol to bring down a dangerous Irish terrorist. To make an extremely long story, short, she attempted to save his young son from growing up just like his father, by making him think she'd killed the boy. When Emily became a profiler, Ian Doyle resurfaced and-"

"Ian Doyle," Georgia interrupted in amazement as her eyebrows climbed into her hair. "My God, I heard about him when we were trying to take down Charles Capello. I'd forgotten about him and that the BAU took him out." She narrowed her eyes and looked directly at Reid. "Yeah, I remember now, SSA Prentiss –"

"Was killed," Reid interrupted, and something swam into his eyes, then left as his walls slammed back into place, "or so we thought. JJ and Hotch faked her death and sent her into hiding so she could go after him. Eventually, she came back, and we took out Ian and two other terrorists. We paid for it with the deaths of two or our agents."

Georgia swallowed and after trying to maintain eye contact with Reid, finally looked down at her feet and sighed. "Does it help if I say I'm sorry."

"No," Reid said, then he shifted and sat forward. "Yes, it does matter, but what's important is that you understand that _I_ understand how you feel. I won't say I know how you feel because that's something people say without considering the implications. No one knows how anyone feels about anything, not really."

Georgia blew out a breath. "I hear you, Spencer. I guess you do know what it's like to have someone close to you lie to you."

Reid nodded and some of the kindness and compassion she'd seen in his face when he'd revealed Andy's true fate, returned to his eyes. "Yes, but in my case, it was because we tried to protect a friend and colleague. Andrew's just a pawn in a game."

Georgia wiped at her eyes. "I want Cappello and Jerry."

"I understand," Reid said.

Georgia nodded. "So, what do we do."

"You let my team help you. We know Jerry O'Malley is the mole. We don't have the proof yet, but Emily has a thumb drive she obtained from the New York crime lab that we think has all the proof we need."

Georgia stared at him for a long time. "I thought when I heard the news, I'd feel this sense of triumph, but all I feel is this profound longing for my son. I need to get him back, Spencer."

Reid finally smiled at her, and it lit up his face until she couldn't look away. "Good, I'm glad you said that because I want you to get Andy back, too."

"What is our next move?"

"We're not doing anything together," Reid said. "You need to stay out of this, Georgia."

"I thought I told you I won't let you push me aside. I need to find my son, Dr. Reid."

Reid simply raised one hand to stop her from leaving the room. "Yes," he said, "but you can't go charging out into the night. We need to do this the right way, or someone's going to be hurt or killed. I don't want it to be you or your son."

Georgia returned to her chair. "All right. I'll let the FBI do its job."

"I'm glad you said that," Reid answered truthfully.

"Let me get changed and then we'll do what we have to do."

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Georgia had just walked back into the living area with sneakers in her hand when her phone beeped. "Blue," she snapped impatiently.

"Hello, George."

"Jerry?"

Reid got to his feet when he heard Jerry's name and saw George's face go scarlet and her eyes flash.

"Yeah, it's me."

"What do you want? I'm busy."

"I know, and I'm sorry I have to do this, but I ain't got a choice."

Reid narrowed his eyes as he watched Georgia's expression go cold. He hurried to the opposite end of the room and quickly dialed Garcia.

"Hey, sweet cheeks."

"Garcia, I need you to activate the trace on SSA Blue's phone… _now_. There's an incoming call that looks serious."

"Right, on it."

"What're you talking about," Georgia demanded as Reid waited impatiently.

"You know what I'm talkin about, George. You've known since…"

"Fine, you want to stop playing games, we'll stop playing games. I know my son is alive and I won't stop until you, and Capello are behind bars. Tell me where he is, and this ends now. "

"Can't do that George, because I don't know."

Georgia laughed bitterly. "You expect me to believe that. You were my partner, Jerry and you betrayed me from day one."

"I ain't got time to debate our partnership," Jerry snapped.

"And I don't have time to listen to your excuses. Tell me where my son is, and when I find you, I won't kill you."

"You always were a smart-mouthed bitch, George."

"You're breaking my heart."

"Charles has your kid," Jerry said. "He paid one of his guys to kill his lady and take the kid."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do, or you wouldn't have called me."

"I know your FBI friend has had enough time to trace this call and the boys in blue are on their way. I only ask that you talk to me when they bring me in."

"Why?'

"You'll find out."

She stared at the phone for a minute after the click signaling the end of the call, then she jolted and grabbed for her shoes.

"Georgia!"

She looked up to see the concern in Spencer's lovely eyes and something other than rage stirred in her heart. The desire to step forward and let him hold her until someone else took care of Charles and Jerry nearly overwhelmed her and her heart began to thud in her chest.

"Georgia?"

His tone softened a bit, and she blinked. "Sorry, what?"

Spencer stepped toward her. "I said we traced the call, but I can see that –"

"I'm alright," she held up a hand as if to ward off a blow. "I can't," when she saw his intention to try and pull her back from the brink.

"All right," he nodded, and his eyes changed to determination and some anger that she knew wasn't directed at her. "Let's go find Andy."

Spencer watched as Georgia's face twisted at the mention of her son's name. The delicate skin of her face paled to the shade of new cream; then crimson bloomed on her cheeks like the petals of a newly born crimson rose. Her blue eyes filled with tears and her mouth trembled.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he said and didn't flinch when she closed the distance between them.

Georgia didn't fight the urge to wrap her arms around him because trying to resist the need for someone to hold onto was like trying to resist the wind or pull down a mountain with her bare hands.

Reid took the embrace even though she hugged him tight enough to restrict his breathing. He felt her tremble against him and his heart began to race in the way he hadn't felt since the last time he'd spoken to Maeve. No! He turned his mind from his lost love and let his arms rise to hold onto Georgia until she pushed him away.

"Wow, sorry, I wasn't thinking."

Spencer watched her turn from him and wipe at her eyes. Irrationally, he wanted to hold her again. Because Georgia made him feel whole after years of feeling broken.

"It's alright."

"Spencer… I think –"

"It's alright," he repeated and smiled. "You don't have to say it. Let's worry about getting your son back and then we'll talk."

Georgia nodded, and she smiled. "You're right, Spencer. Give me a minute, though; I left my gun in the bedroom."

"Georgia."

"What," she snapped at him. "I'm not going anywhere without my weapon, and my badge," she added with a smile. "I am a federal agent after all. I'm sworn to uphold the law, and that's what I intend to do."

Reid studied her for a long minute until she lifted both eyebrows and impatience colored her face. "You going to stand there staring at me all day."

Reid shook himself and shrugged. "Go get your gun… and your badge."

Georgia grinned, started to walk away and then turned around. "I'm sorry," she said quietly then hurried down the hallway to the bedroom.

Reid called Emily and relayed the events of the last half hour as quickly and succinctly as he could using federal agent shorthand whenever possible.

"It's a good thing you called Garcia," Emily said. "She just contacted me. I'm in touch with SWAT, and we'll meet you at the coordinates you provided."

"We'll see you there."

"You sure SSA Blue's up for this?"

"Yes," he said resolutely. "I'm sure she's fine."

"Reid!"

"I know, Emily. I'm getting too close again, but I have to see this through, for Andy's sake if for nothing else. He's an innocent kid."

"You're right," Emily agreed.

"I'll see you in fifteen minutes."

Georgia reentered the room, and they stared at each other for a minute. She blew out a breath and gestured to the door. "In case I forget, Dr. Reid. Thank you for injuring your hand."

Reid smirked. "That's a strange comment."

"I only mean that if you hadn't decided to try and kill the heavy bag, you wouldn't have seen Andy's picture and I wouldn't be here."

They left the building as George explained her reasoning to him and went out into the spring evening. The sun was dropping toward the horizon, and golden rays almost blinded him as they turned toward the car Georgia had parked in the street. He put his hand up to shade his eyes and went to the passenger side of the car.

"You're welcome, I think," Reid continued their conversation.

Georgia looked over at him as she reached for the keys in her pocket. "Next time, wear boxing gloves," she advised.

Reid laughed and watched the last of the sunset die away as she pulled out into traffic. He finally noticed that the car was an unmarked police vehicle when she turned on the flashing red light and siren.

"Where did you get the car?"

"Friend."

"Some friend."

Georgia only smiled at him, and they flew into the purple dusk like night birds looking for the end of the world.


	13. Chapter 13

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

Twenty minutes later Reid and Georgia pulled up in front of a run down ten story SRO, ironically named, "Homestead." It looked like it remained from the 19th century, it's façade painted an ugly brown that hadn't received maintenance in years. The windows were filthy, and trash lay scattered in the street leading to the building.

"I'll go in and speak to the super," Detective Montoya was saying to Emily when Reid and Georgia left her unmarked car. "I know this place, had a few drug dealers and pimps working out of here."

"Good, see what you can find out while we watch the outside."

Montoya emerged five minutes later. He motioned to them, and they entered with five SWAT officers leading the charge. "My buddy Henry said O'Malley's in a room on the fifth floor."

Emily looked at the super who sat in an enclosed area and stared at them out of light brown eyes that reminded her of a rat. He grinned at her, and she didn't like the look on his face. She smiled back, and suddenly he frowned and found the wall more interesting to observe.

"We'll go first," said one of the SWAT officers.

Emily nodded, and they took the stairs instead of the elevator that looked like it might fall to pieces at any time. The stairs creaked and popped beneath their feet as they hurried to the fifth floor. Someone had added carpet to the risers at some point, but it was impossible to tell the color of the pattern beneath the heavy patina of dirt, dust, and other detritus accumulated over its unsavory history.

The door to O'Malley's room stood directly in front of them and at the end of the hall. The SWAT team slowed when the door opened, and a man stepped out. He held his hands in the air as they called to him to halt and show his hands. He smiled in a manner that communicated he was used to charming his way out of most inconveniences, and it was clear he considered this confrontation another such inconvenience.

"Hello officers," he greeted them. "And ladies."

Emily's eyebrows went up as JJ looked at her with a confused and irritated expression. Georgia lunged for him, but Reid held her back. "Don't give him the satisfaction."

"Detective Jerald O'Malley," Emily asked as a door to her left opened, and a woman dressed in a dirty brown cardigan and grey sweatpants peeked out. As soon as she saw the big guns and badges, she slammed the door shut.

"Yes," he said and put his hands on his head. "It took you long enough to find me. I thought I made it quite easy, but the feds continue to disappoint me, unlike my fellow officers who turn a blind eye at every turn.

Emily watched without commenting on O'Malley's utter calm at a confrontation with armed police and FBI. She merely shrugged and holstered her weapon when one of the huge SWAT officers cuffed O'Malley after searching him for weapons. Another officer read him his rights, and soon they were back in their SUVs with their insider in tow.

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Reid exited Georgia's car at the same moment, Emily, Matt, and Rossi pulled up with Detective Montoya in a borrowed SUV. Another vehicle arrived and parked closest to the entrance to the 7th precinct doors. Two officers accompanied by JJ and Tara led a handcuffed Jerry O'Malley to the stairs leading up to the doors.

Black night had fallen, but a full moon shone in the sky like a brilliant eye looking down on sights seen many times in the past and doomed to repeat as long as men walked the earth. A breeze picked up and tossed a few dried leaves left over from the previous fall and threw them in it the air with a rattle that reminded Reid of an old movie he'd once seen with a skeleton that walked the hallways of an ancient, moldering castle in Ireland.

"Aren't you glad you didn't rush off into the night, alone," Reid said to Georgia or started to say because out of the night came a snapping crack of a high-velocity bullet. He dove for the ground, pushing Georgia down, and coming to rest on top of her.

Another bullet whined off the car just inches from where Emily had dove for cover. Three more shots cracked through the night sky and then all was silent for several seconds before they dared come out from cover. Pandemonium broke out as voices yelled over each other and officers from the precinct ran from the building with guns drawn.

"We need an ambulance," said one of the officers near to where Detective O'Malley had fallen to the pavement between two patrol cars."

"Don't bother," Emily said as she bent over to the man and felt his neck. The bullet well placed and done by a professional had hit dead center in his forehead, killing him instantly.

"We've got a sniper," Rossi said. "Probably on the roof," he pointed across the building.

"Damn it," Georgia shouted as she and Reid made their way to the body, still using the vehicles for cover. "I wanted to talk to that slimy bastard. Now, I'll never see Andy again."

"You don't know that," JJ began.

"Yes, I do!" Georgia turned her wrath on Reid's teammate. "Leave me alone."

She rose to her full height and yanked away from Reid when he tried to pull her back behind the nearest car. "Save it," she snapped. "The gunman's gone. I don't have to be a profiler to know he got what he came for tonight. The four bullets after the fact were just for fun."

Luke cocked an eyebrow. "She's right."

"Yeah, she's right," Emily said. "Still, we have to be sure. Let's search every roof with a line of sight to this parking lot. We can't take the chance that he's still there and maybe after you," she said to Georgia, who paled.

"Reid, I want you to stay with SSA Blue until this is over. Make sure nothing happens to her."

"I can take care –"

Emily held up a hand, and her dark eyes flashed. "I know you can, Blue, but I want someone with you at all times, and Reid is it, understood?"

Reid looked at Emily, and she silently shook her head. He shrugged and said. "I guess I'm yours for the duration, Blue. You can protect me if it makes you feel better."

Georgia scowled at him and marched up the steps and into the police station without another word. Despite Emily's order that Reid stayed with her, he turned to his boss and said. "You sure this is a good idea."

"Yes," she said. "Go. We have work to do."

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Georgia stood staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror after using the toilet and washing her hands. She tried to see some piece of her left from before the fake death of Andy but couldn't see it in her eyes. It was as if she'd become a different person in the last year, and she didn't like what she saw.

Georgia wiped her hands and noticed that they were steady despite the residual adrenaline coursing through her veins. Why did Charles have O'Malley killed? It didn't make any sense. He had to know that every cop in the city would be looking for him now as most of them had no idea O'Malley was a dirty cop. Why?

JJ entered the room. "Reid said you were in here. You okay?"

"No! I'm not fine, Agent Jareau. How could I be when my only link to finding Charles Capello is gone?"

"We're _going_ to find another lead."

"Excuse me if I don't believe you."

JJ sighed, her blue eyes sympathetic and somehow that emotion irritated rather than soothed. "I don't pretend to know how you feel, Georgia."

"We on a first name basis now."

JJ ignored her and continued. "I _am_ a mother, and I know how I'd feel if I were in your position. If anyone did to me what Capello did to you, I'd want them dead."

Georgia opened her mouth the say something nasty, and instead, she burst into tears. JJ hugged her and let Georgia cry on her shoulder for several minutes. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I know it doesn't make it better, but I will do _everything_ I can to bring Andy home. We all will."

Something in that last statement had Georgia pulling back to look at JJ. "Look, I know why Agent Prentiss assigned Dr. Reid –"

JJ held up a hand. "Why don't we join the others."

Georgia nodded and then she smiled. "You're a good friend."

JJ grinned at her. "Thank you."

They left the restroom behind and joined the team in the conference room. Detective Montoya and Captain Stone, a large man in a three-piece suit with thinning black hair and piercing grey eyes joined them. He reminded Tara of a lawyer more than a cop, and she winced.

"I don't have to tell you what we're facing with a cop killed right under our noses. The media's going to have a field day. It's already all over the internet, and I've got the Mayor and the Police Commissioner breathing down my neck. We need to end this. Now!

"We will end it when we find the person that kidnapped Andy because he's the same one that had O'Malley killed."

"I thought we had a suspect. Charles Capello."

"We do, but it looks more and more that either he's not involved or someone he dealt with in the past is helping him. There may be a third option, someone Capello angered in the past, planned the kidnapping and murder.

"Why do you say that," Stone directed the question at Emily.

"Because I just got a call from our Technical Analyst at Quantico and she's decrypted the thumb drive I sent her from the Crime Lab's evidence locker. Detective O'Malley wasn't the only mole in the NYPD. Detective Harris, the former head of your of said lab was up to his eyeballs in snitching for Charles Capello. The lab tech that had the thumb drive in his locker, one Michael Alan, was a go-between for them. We find him; we might get somewhere with this investigation."

"Do it," Stone ordered and rose to his feet. "I have a meeting with the Commissioner. We need to get ahead of the media storm."

He slammed out of the room, and Emily sighed. "Let's get to work everyone. I have Garcia working on finding Michael Alan. In the meantime," she directed to Luke. "Do you have any news from your friends on the Fugitive Taskforce.

Luke opened his mouth at the same time his phone beeped. "That's my contact now."

He hurried from the room, and Reid stood. "I have an idea how we might get the un-sub to come to us."

"What are you talking about?" Georgia said.

"Emily, I'd like to put the word out that Agent Blue wants to meet with the un-sub, alone."

"Glady," Georgia said and began to get to her feet.

"Sit," Emily said. "We are not using you as bait."

"Why not," Rossi piped up. "Georgia is Capello's former victim. He left her alive, and he took her child for revenge. Let's make the un-sub think he's got a chance to finish the job. If it is Capello, he'll see it as a chance to be free of her."

"I won't let you go alone," Emily insisted.

"He'll smell a trap," JJ said.

"Not if we make the offer tempting enough to lure him out despite the risk," Reid said.

"That was my contact on the task force. They can't confirm Capello's whereabouts despite several tips." Luke said as he came back into the conference room.

The phone in the middle of the table rang, and Emily tapped it to answer and put it on speaker. "Prentiss," she answered briskly.

"Hello, boss lady, goddess of the information superhighway at your service."

Detective Montoya grinned at Tara who smirked back at him. "I like her."

"You're on speaker," Emily said sternly, but her eyes twinkled at Garcia's happy greeting.

"Well, I sound sparkly, but I have bad news kiddos. I found Michael Alan."

"That's great," Montoya burst out.

"Yes and no."

"Tell us, kitten," Rossi said.

"I found his death certificate. He was killed three days ago in Brooklyn. Gunshot at close range through the head."

"Damn it," Georgia exclaimed.

"Thanks, Garcia."

"Sorry for the bad news."

Emily clicked off the phone and turned to Georgia. "I guess we have no choice but to try and lure out the un-sub."


	14. Chapter 14

_**Disclaimer: see my profile**_

Reid entered the room with a file in his hands. "I just spoke with the crime lab. They rushed the ballistics test on the bullet that killed Michael Alan and the bullet removed from Detective O'Malley. The striations match, but since we don't have a weapon to match, it's going to be difficult to find the shooter.

Twenty-four hours had passed since someone had killed Detective O'Malley and the hits kept coming from evidence collection and the autopsy.

Tara and Rossi joined them in the conference room as Simmons and Luke hurried in behind them. "Afraid we have bad news as well," Matt said. "We think we found the sniper's nest on the roof of the building across the street. There's evidence of scratching on the top of the concrete wall that looks like they came from a rifle, but other than that we've got nothing. He policed his brass, and so far, no hair, or fibers. We might have a partial boot print, but the tread isn't complete.

"Stay on it, Luke," Emily said. "I'll take anything you can give me."

Luke nodded. "You got it."

"We talked to Mr. Alan's family and nothing," Tara said. "They claim they don't understand why or how Michael came to be a mole for the Capello family.

"If you want my opinion, they're either frightened of someone paid them off."

"Let's have Garcia take a look into their bank accounts."

"Already on it," Tara said.

"In the meantime, let's give the profile. We've already seen the fallout of O'Malley's shooting. There're cops out there that are out for blood. We need to make sure they focus on something productive."

"I agree," Rossi said as JJ entered the room.

"I dusted off my media liaison skills and talked to the crowd of reporters out there. They weren't happy that you," she indicated to Emily, "weren't there. They asked the usual impertinent questions. I must admit that I'm impressed with Captain Stone. He might be more interested in politics, but he put a couple of reporters in their place with a few well-chosen words."

"Good. Let's try to keep a lid on the details as long as we can."

"Agreed."

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"The man we're looking for is meticulous, intelligent and unafraid of police interference. The kidnapping of a child belonging to a crime figure, and to an FBI agent was incredibly risky. It took planning, which means he's not a young man. He doesn't have a full-time job but may work from home."

"Are you saying that we're not looking for Charles Capello?"

Emily turned her eyes on the dark-haired officer standing to her right. "We're simply keeping all possibilities in mind. We know that Charles Capello doesn't have the skills to pull off the shot that killed Detective O'Malley.

"A precision shot like that takes special training, either police or military," Rossi added.

"Are you saying that one of us took out Detective O'Malley," said a cop in the back of the room.

Murmurs and protests erupted in the room. Emily shouted over them. "We're not accusing anyone," Emily said. "The point of profiling is to keep all angles open. We don't make accusations toward a specific individual until we have compelling evidence."

"You should listen to them," SSA Blue pointed out. "I used to be one of you. Do you think I'd accuse without proof, a fellow NYPD officer?"

Some of the police glanced at each other with eyes that indicated they didn't believe her, but they stopped protesting and settled into a silence that seemed to weigh on the room like a cloud filled with poisonous rain.

"The best way to rule out the police is to do your job," Emily said. "We know you all want the person caught who killed Detective O'Malley."

"Why?"

Emily turned her eyes on a police officer at the right of the room. "Everyone knows he was dirty. It was all over the news. I ain't risking my life for a dirty cop."

"You believe the news, Fitzgerald." Said a female cop at the front of the room. "Just the other day, you said they were a bunch of lying bast-"

"Enough," Captain Stone entered the room with a scowl and eyes that blazed like the sun at high noon. "Whether or not Detective O'Malley was dirty isn't your priority. Your priority is to catch that son of a bitch Capello and find SSA Blue's son, alive. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," they said in unison, but discontent lived in most of their faces, and it made Emily sigh.

"I'm sorry about that," Captain Stone said. "They need a lesson in discipline, Chief Prentiss.

Emily almost smiled at his use of her title, but then she sobered as they went back to the conference room. "I appreciate that, sir, but in a way, your men and women are right. We need to end this as soon as possible."

"I agree, which is why I'm fully on board with your plan to use SSA Blue to flush out this kidnapper."

Emily nodded, and they parted in the doorway. "Do we have the word out?" she asked Luke and Matt.

"Yes, but no bites yet."

SSA Blue paced around the room, her eyes cast down and her shoulders hunched. Reid watched her as she moved among them, but he stayed quiet. He recognized her stance and the expression on her face. He tried to think of something to say to her, but the words wouldn't come.

"Agent Prentiss?"

Emily looked up to see Detective Montoya in the doorway. "There's someone here to see SSA Blue."

"Who it is," Georgia asked before Emily could reply.

"Captain Marshall."

Georgia narrowed her eyebrows in surprise. "Larry Marshall. What's he doing here."

Detective Montoya shrugged. "Don't know. He said he needed to talk with you and the feds."

"George," boomed Larry from the doorway. He filled the space like a brown bear standing on hind legs.

"What are you doing here?" Georgia hissed.

"I'm here because I may have a lead on our kidnapper."

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"Let me get this straight," Emily interrupted after the team, Detective Montoya, former NYPD Captain Lawrence Marshall, and SSA Blue had taken their places around the table. "You're saying you know where we can find Andy?"

"Yes. I'm retired, but I still have my contacts and snitches. George," he addressed his former subordinate. "You remember Sonny the Star Gazer."

Despite her surprise and some trepidation, Georgia laughed. "Do I? He still around. He must be three hundred years old."

Larry grinned, and his wide smile made Tara narrow her eyes. "Give or take a couple of years. Yeah, he's still around and still sleeping over a grate in South Brooklyn."

"What's he got to do with this?"

"He looked me up yesterday and told me he was hunting for invaders in the warehouse district."

"Excuse me, invaders," Rossi asked.

"Sonny's former military. He was in the tail end of Vietnam, spent a year in a prison camp. He came home thinking the Chinese were aliens in disguise. He's been wandering the streets, drinking when he can get it and preaching about aliens when he can't. Someone took to calling him Star Gazer as a homage to Luke Skywalker, and it stuck. Cops and therapists have been trying to help him for years, but he won't stick in shelters or hospitals. He's my best informant. He found me an hour ago and said he had info, but he won't talk without George there."

"Why me? I barely know him."

"He said he owed David."

Georgia's lips tightened, and her face paled. "Why? What does Pop have to do with all of this? He's dead, remember."

The BAU team looked at each other, except for Reid who watched Georgia with something in his face that made Emily begin to rethink her decision to keep him on the case.

Larry shrugged. "Sonny started as a snitch for David, remember. Then I sort of inherited when your Dad was promoted to Captain.

"All right, I'll go."

"Wait," JJ held up a hand. "We can't let her go out there alone."

"She won't be alone," Larry said, and his expression bored into JJ, who stared back at him with unwavering eyes.

"Do you trust him," Emily asked.

"No reason not to. Sonny's provided me with many a hot tip over the years."

"I want to do it," Georgia said.

"We don't know what this Sonny will say," Reid spoke up, and he kept his gaze on her even when she blistered him with her eyes.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Rossi put in.

"Andy's my son. I'll go with or without your permission."

"SSA Blue –"

Georgia turned to Emily. "Please don't tell me I can't follow up this lead, Emily. I need to do this for my son."

Emily looked at Rossi who shrugged and then at Reid who didn't respond except to bite his bottom lip. "I'll let you go if you take SSA Reid with you."

"Emily," JJ began.

"No, they're right. We need to follow the lead."

"Then, let's go," Larry said as he stood.

"I'll be right behind you as soon as we've all put on vests."

"He'll see them," Larry countered.

"Not if we don them under our clothing."

"Reid is right," Emily said. "It's vests or this whole operation is off."

Emily stopped Reid as he was about to follow Larry and Georgia out of the room. "I'll ask Garcia to track you, and we'll follow from a distance."

"I'm counting on it."

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Larry pulled his dark red SUV to the curb and parked. The sun had dropped below the horizon, and another cold wind picked up as night began its dominance over the world. Reid left the truck and followed Georgia and Larry into a rundown storefront that looked like it hadn't seen use in a hundred years. The walls were lined with shelves, covered in inches of dust and cobwebs hung in corners and from the broken lights over their heads.

They all switched on flashlights, and the beams illuminated a shattered mirror at the end of the room, and clothing that hung in tatters from hangers that sagged from clothing racks.

"Why here?" Georgia hissed under her breath.

"All I know is that we're supposed to meet him here at 6:30 p.m. He was very specific about the time."

"Wait," Georgia turned to Larry, her flashlight brightening the area around his legs. "I just remembered that Sonny never talked to anyone but you. He was paranoid, but not stupid. Why change now?"

Reid heard a gun cocking and wrenched up the beam of his flashlight to see Larry with his gun pointing at him A revolver, just like his own service weapon. "I should've known you'd remember that little detail, George. Your father taught you well."

"Larry, what the hell?"

"Come _on_ , don't play stupid now," Larry said as he began to walk toward Reid slowly.

"It's you," Georgia spat out and her hand went to her gun.

"Stop, or I'll shoot your new friend where he stands."

"Larry," Reid said as he raised his gun. "You know my team is tracking me. You won't leave here alive if you don't drop the gun now."

"Oh, I think I will. I have what I came for." Larry assured Reid as he fired at Spencer from point blank range.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

The crack of Larry's gun echoed through the deserted store. A sharp burning pain flared in Reid's right shoulder and he stumbled back to a clothing rack. The rack shifted, and he fell heavily into the ragged and dusty articles of clothing. He heard as if from a distance, a woman scream and then a thud, some quick footsteps, and then nothing. His flashlight lay several feet away and pointing it's strong, golden light in the wrong direction. Still, he could see drops of blood on the dirty floor, soaking into a yellow shirt under his head. He tried to reach for his phone and screamed in pain instead. His right hand wouldn't function, and he couldn't move his arm. He tried to roll to the left and push one handed to his feet, but the pain in his arm was like a living thing, despite the adrenaline that heated his blood.

"Reid," called a familiar voice, and then he saw another figute entering the room.

A new light washed over him, and the voice said, "Clear. JJ, I found him. He's down. Call an ambulance."

Reid squeezed his eyes against the bright light of the second flashlight and relief washed over him when Luke crouched beside him.

"You okay?"

"I think so," Reid wheezed. "Hurts like hell."

"Spence," JJ called and rushed to his side.

Reid coughed, jerked and screamed in pain as he tried again, to turn from his left side. "Georgia," he whispered then coughed again.

"Stay still," JJ commanded as she knelt and cradled his head. "You've got a bullet hole in your shoulder."

"Shot again," he tried to say it lightly, but the pain was like a living thing, and he could feel blood dripping down his arm.

JJ smiled despite the tears in her eyes. "Yes, _again_. Lucky for you it looks like a small caliber, otherwise -damn it, Spence. You gotta stop scaring us like this."

"Sorry, but Marshall took me by surprise. Thought he was one of us."

Emily crouched down beside him and took his left hand in a tight grip. "Garcia called us about two minutes after you left and dropped the information bomb she found in the encrypted thumb drive."

"Let me guess," Reid said, weakly, as he tried to ignore the fiery pain in his shoulder. "He's the mole."

"Yes, Detective O'Malley was just another well-paid go-between."

"I should've seen it," Reid gasped out.

"Stay quiet," JJ said as sirens approached from the north. "Help's almost here."

"Some bodyguard I turned out to be," he said bitterly. "We gotta help Georgia."

"There's no, "we," Rossi said as he and Tara joined the circle around him and his relief made him more sarcastic than ever. "You're going to the hospital."

"Don't want to, I _hate_ hospitals."

"I know," JJ said. "Think of it as a vacation."

"Not funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny."

"Yeah, I know, JJ. I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven," JJ said as she bent and kissed his forehead. "Just think about getting well and playing with Michael and Henry."

"Best incentive ever," Reid said, raspily.

"We swept the entire building, including the basement. There's no sign of Lawrence or Georgia." Luke said as he and Matt approached from the back of the building.

"How did he get out of here without you seeing him?"

The two men shrugged. "No way to tell. All I know is he didn't get past me," Luke said. "Unless they went out the back before you arrived.

"We need to find them," Emily said. "Let's get on it."

Five minutes later, medics arrived with a stretcher and loaded a semiconscious Reid onto it. "JJ, go with him, please," Emily asked.

"All right."

" _No_ , stay here and help them find Georgia."

"I want someone with you," Emily said. "For now, that's JJ. Don't argue."

"Yeah, Spence. I'll show you my latest pictures of the boys."

"Don't try to bribe me," Reid warned with a weak and pain filled smile.

"Wouldn't dream of it," JJ said as she followed him out to the ambulance.

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Georgia woke to find she sat slumped in the front passenger seat of a speeding car. "What the hell," she mumbled and groaned in pain at the same time.

"Stay quiet, George. We're almost there."

"Where are you taking me?"

"To see your son. Isn't that what you want."

Georgia craned her head to see Larry driving through the night in an unknown direction, but they were still in the city. Then she remembered, "You killed Spencer. Why?"

"He's not dead, just shot in the shoulder. I'm an ex-cop, George, remember. I _know_ how the game is played. I was sure the feds would follow us. Why do you think I agreed to let them send Dr. Reid as your bodyguard? I needed them distracted until we get to where we're going."

"You're the one," Georgia gasped, then groaned and put her hand to her head. "Why?" She demanded. "What did I do to you?"

"Nothing, but you did bring down the Capello empire and cost me a lot of money."

Georgia reached for her weapon, and Larry chuckled in a way that made the hair stand up on the back of her head. "I told you, George, I'm not stupid."

"Don't call me that," Georgia demanded as more pain burst over the top of her head. "We're not friends, not if you can take my son from me, make me think he's dead all for money." She spat out the words as though they were acid on her tongue. "I'm going to _kill_ you."

Larry laughed. "How do you propose to do that, George? You don't have a weapon."

"I'll find a way, Larry. I promise you."

"You'll behave, or you'll never see your son again."

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"Emily," Luke said over the radio. "Come downstairs. Matt and I found something."

Emily left Rossi and Tara and the police who'd come for backup. When she reached the bottom of the dusty and creaky wooden stairs, she stopped in shock. A wide, metal door stood open and led to a dark passageway at the back of the store.

"What the hell?"

"We missed it because of the stacked boxes hiding the entrance, but Matt decided to look behind them and there you are."

"Nice job, Matt."

"We found a tunnel like this in Malaysia once," Matt said. "It led from a government building to a private home. As Larry and Georgia vanished, I thought some hidden door might be a possibility."

"I called Garcia, and she told me that this store used to be owned by an old friend of Marshall's."

"Let's get in there and find out where it leads."

They found the end of the tunnel leading into the basement of an unused warehouse. SWAT led the way, but the room was empty except for a service pistol lying on the floor.

"I guess it was too much to ask that they'd still be here," Emily said after SWAT cleared the basement around them.

"This's Georgia's weapon, I think," Tara said.

"Why leave it here?"

"Marshall wants us to know she's under his control," Emily said wearily. "Damn it."

"We need to find them," Tara said.

"Let's get started."

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Larry shoved his gun into Georgia's back. "Get going, or I'll put a bullet in your head."

"Fuck you, Larry."

Marshall laughed and shoved her again. "I'm going to miss you, George. You _are_ feisty."

"Shut up."

"I'll talk as much as I please. I'm the one holding the gun if you remember."

Georgia's stomach rolled when she realized her surroundings. "Why are we here?" She cursed inwardly for her trembling voice, but she couldn't help it. The look of the place was disgusting and familiar.

"Because this is where Charles wanted us to meet. He thought you'd appreciate the irony."

"Then he's as much an idiot as you because I don't appreciate it," Georgia spat out as Larry forced her forward to the entryway of the old warehouse.

"I can't say I blame you, but this will be over soon, and it won't matter."

They entered the warehouse, and Georgia's stomach dropped to her toes when the smell hit her nostrils. The room hadn't changed since that afternoon a year ago when she'd come here to see where she thought Andy had been killed. Nausea rose in her throat, but she forced it down because she had to stay strong for her son. She had to find a way to get him out of this terrible place.

Georgia flinched when a door opened, and Charles Capello stepped out with Andy in his arms.

"Hello, Georgia."

"Don't call me that!"

She couldn't take her eyes off the boy in Charles' arms. The child's chocolate eyes tracked to her, and he stared at her as if he tried to figure out her identity. Georgia nearly bolted forward when the child looked at her, but Larry grabbed her arm. "Don't do it."

"Why didn't you restrain her?" Charles demanded in his familiar arrogant tones.

"Because she's not armed, and she knows you have Andy. She won't do anything to endanger her child."

Charles smiled widely, and a chill ran down her spine. She recognized that smile from the night he'd beaten and raped her. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "What do you want?"

"You'll see. Larry, do what you have to do, and then we'll go."

Larry shoved her shoulder in the direction of a door set into the south wall of the old, and crumbling warehouse in Queens, the same warehouse where she'd suffered and nearly died. "Stop pushing me. You make me sick."

Larry didn't speak again until they were through the door. "Don't fight this, Georgia and I promise I'll make it quick. A bullet in your head and it's over."

"Dad would hate you for this," Georgia spat as Larry led her through a dimly lit hallway. "Does that _even_ compute for you?"

"David was a fool, and he turned you into another fool, George. It's not the good, and the kind, that rule the world."

"My father was a great man, and even though we didn't always get along, he taught me goodness and light."

Larry chuckled derisively. "Money's important, and so is power. When you're gone, Charles and I will go our separate ways, after he pays me, of course. I'll retire in style, and no one will be the wiser."

"You're an idiot if you think no one will be the wiser," Georgia spat as they neared another door. "The FBI will find both of you."

"Now who'is the fool," Larry said.

"Not me," Georgia turned and dropped to the floor before he registered her movement. She rolled to the right and came up with a gun in her hand. "Drop it," she commanded him as he swung to her.

"We're both wearing vests, remember."

"Yes, but as you've forgotten, I'm FBI's weapons and self-defense expert. I can kill you more easily than you think. I'm a dead-eye shot, Larry."

"You won't do it," Larry said, but his face betrayed fear and the hope that he might be wrong.

"You should've searched me back at the store. For an ex-cop, that was a rookie mistake. Did you think I wouldn't have a back-up?"

Larry tried to laugh, but it came out as a strangled gurgle, and his eyes wouldn't leave the barrel of her gun. "I guess I didn't think. Come on, George. You know you can't do this. Let's go together to get your son and take out Charles."

"Do you truly expect me to believe that you'll switch sides at the last minute. I'm not stupid."

"Please, George."

"Sorry, Larry, but you're pointing a gun at me, and I'm in fear of my life."

Georgia pulled the trigger, and her old friend and mentor crashed to the floor with a bullet in his head. She turned to her left and retched. Her stomach rolled and jittered, and she nearly stumbled into the brick wall. "I'm sorry, dad. I didn't have a choice." She groaned as tears rolled down her cheeks.

She wiped her mouth, picked up Larry's gun and shoved it into the waistband of her jeans as she moved slowly back down the hallway. Her heart pounded in her chest as she crept to the door leading into the large storage room. How to get Charles without putting Andy in more danger? Her one advantage was that he must think the gunshot was Larry killing her in the other room. If she could use that to her advantage, she might come out of this alive and with her son. Georgia edged to the door with her back to the wall, reached out with a trembling hand and opened it.


	16. Chapter 16

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

 ** _A/n hello all. This is the last chapter. I want to thank all my readers and all who've be kind enough to follow, favorite or review this story. You're all the best. Also, thank you to my wonderful beta, REIDFANATIC for all her diligence in making sure this story is edited correctly. Please enjoy._**

An empty and silent room greeted Georgia when she entered low with her gun in her outstretched hands. She nearly called out, freeze, before it registered that Charles and Andy had vanished. She fumbled for her phone, but it wasn't there. "Damn it," she fumed under her breath.

Georgia stood frozen, torn between trying to escape and find help or going after Charles. "What do I do, Andy," she whispered.

As if in response, she heard the voice of her little boy, "Want mommy," it cried, and the sound cut to the core of her being. "I'm coming," she breathed and hurried in the direction of the cry

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Emily returned down the tunnel to the abandoned clothing store when her phone beeped. "Prentiss."

"I've got good news and bad news," Garcia said, forgoing her usual happy greeting.

"You found Georgia."

"That's the bad news. I tracked her phone, and it's still at your location."

"Yeah, Matt found it tossed behind one of the counters. Marshall must've thrown it there."

"The good news is that I tracked down one of the properties Charles Capello still owns in Queens, as per your suggestion. It's the same warehouse where he attacked SSA Blue."

Emily went cold despite knowing what Garcia would find in her search. "So, he managed to hold onto it despite fleeing law enforcement."

"Someone did near perfect concealment of ownership with multiple fake corporations and titles, but as you know, they can't hide from me."

"I thank God every day, that you're on our side, Penelope."

"Thanks, peaches. I'm sending the address to you, now."

"Looks like you were right," Emily said to Rossi. "The son of a bitch held onto that warehouse."

"Let's go get him."

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Georgia stepped through another door to what looked like a small office. She swept the dim room fast before realizing that a child sat in a chair in a corner. She stopped in shock and lowered her gun at the sight of Andy.

"Andy," she whispered.

"Mama," the little boy bit his lip and then he smiled and slid off his chair.

"Oh baby," Georgia holstered her gun and went to him.

"Mama," cried the little boy and ran into her arms. "I miss you. Where you go?"

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I'll tell you _all_ about it, but now we have to be quiet, okay."

"Where daddy?"

Georgia stiffened. "Um, he's in another room, honey. We're going to play hide and seek, okay."

"I like to hide and seek."

"I know you do. Now, your daddy's it, and we must hide from him, okay."

"Okay, mommy," whispered the boy.

"Be very quiet so we can find another hiding place where he'll never find us."

"Kay."

Georgia picked him up in her arms, and his familiar scent washed over her like a warm bath. She bit back a cry and blinked away the tears from her eyes.

"Let's go," she whispered. "Remember to be quiet."

She felt Andy nod against her shoulder, and she carefully carried him from the room. Every step she took sounded as loud as a gunshot, and she cursed the dirt on the floor that squeaked and crunched against the soles of her shoes. She turned a corner after crossing the main room of the building and stepped through a door that led to a second room just before the exit.

"I should've killed you myself."

Georgia whirled around and saw Charles pointing a gun at them. She set Andy down and said. "Stay behind mama."

"Daddy, you found us." Andy tried to step forward, but Georgia gently pulled him back.

"Shh…" she hushed him and put her body between him and his father.

"Playing games, Georgia," asked the man she hated more than anyone on earth.

"Don't call me that."

"Andy, come to daddy."

" _No,"_ Georgia clutched tighter to his hand. "Andy, why don't you go hide. I'll be it and come to find you."

"Don't want to. I'm scared."

"See, the kid is scared."

"Shut up."

"Let go of him or I will –"

"You'll what, kill your own son," George spat as anger began to override her fear.

"Momma," Andy began to cry.

"Shut up, you little bastard," Charles shouted.

"Put down the gun," said a voice behind Georgia.

Emily stood in the north doorway with her gun drawn as the rest of the team entered the room.

"You're surrounded," Tara added. "Put down the gun and put your hands on your head."

"No," Charles raised the gun to his head. "I'd rather die then, give _you_ the satisfaction of sending me to prison," he directed to Georgia.

"I'd rather see you dead, but I'll take what I can get.

"Tough talk from a lousy fed. I won't let you take me down, do you understand me."

"You're going to blow your brains out in front of your son and prove to him you're a coward," said Georgia.

"Shut up, bitch."

"Mommy."

"Drop the gun," Emily shouted when Charles lowered it from his head and turned it toward Georgia. She dove to the ground and pulled Andy down with her. The next moments felt like slow motion to her as shots rang out around her and then all went quiet.

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"You okay?" Emily asked Georgia as she sat in the back of an ambulance.

"What?" Georgia said, dully and dazedly as the medic checked Andy.

"You guys okay?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine. I'm glad he's dead, but what do I tell Andy?"

"Mommy, I scared," said little Andy, as his beautiful chocolate eyes filled with tears. Andy pulled away from the medic and hugged her tight.

"We're done," smiled the medic. "He's fine except for a few bruises."

"Wanna go home."

"I know, baby. We'll go soon. I promise." Georgia kissed the top of his head and held him tight against her chest where she could feel the beat of his little heart.

Rossi walked up to Emily. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Go ahead," Georgia said as she rocked her child slowly as if he were a tiny baby, once again.

Emily stepped away from their new friend and out of the flashing lights of cop cars and the ambulance.

"I just talked Garcia. All the evidence pointed to Capello spooking when he realized that Georgia was closing in on him. He hatched this little plan with Marshall to get her back in town, so they could kill her and disappear permanently."

"I thought as much," Emily looked back at the mother and child who sat together in quiet reunion. "Is it terrible to say I'm _glad_ the bastard's dead."

"No, sometimes it's better if they are."

Emily looked into Rossi's eyes and saw the understanding there. Andy reminded her so much of Declan, and the parallels of their lives made her shiver. They'd both been spared growing up to become the men their fathers wanted them to be.

Emily's phone rang again. She spoke briefly and then turned tired eyes back to Rossi. "Headquarters wants SSA Blue and us back home ASAP. OPR wants to talk to her, and SC Cruz wants to see me."

"You think they'll fire her," Rossi said. "She's a good agent."

"No, but I think she's in for some unpaid leave time. I don't think she'll care. She has her son, and that's all that matters."

"Good, because she just helped bring down the head of a crime family with its tentacles deep inside the NYPD. They should pin a medal on her."

"Agreed. Come on; let's see Reid then we'll get the hell out of here if he can travel tonight. If not, the powers that be will have to wait until he can."

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Spencer Reid sat up on his hospital bed the next morning and wished for his medallion and his travel chess set. He also wished for his bed and a cup of coffee.

"Hey," said a familiar voice from the doorway.

Spencer looked over to see Georgia standing there with a small boy clutching at her hand. "Hi," he greeted softly.

"Can we come in?"

"Sure."

"This is Andy," Georgia said as she helped her son sit on one of the ugly plastic chairs set up for visitors.

"Hello, Andy."

"Who's that," Andy pointed at Spencer.

"This is Spencer. He's my new friend. He helped find you in that ugly old building."

"Do you like to play hide and seek?" Andy wanted to know.

"Yes," Spencer said. "I love to play it with my friends Henry and Michael."

"Can we play?"

"Sure, but I –"

"Not now, buddy," Georgia said as her hand stroked his head. "Spencer has an owie on his shoulder and can't play for a while."

"Oh, does it hurt."

"Not much," Spencer lied. "I'm glad you and your mom are okay, Andy."

"We have a new house," Andy said, enthusiastically.

"You do?"

"He thinks the apartment at home is a new house."

"I'll bet you're going to love it," Spencer said to the boy who watched him with curious eyes.

"Uh, huh," nodded Andy. "I like to be with mommy. I miss her."

"I missed you, too." Georgia hugged him. "I can't believe he remembers me," she directed at Spencer.

"Of course, he does," Spencer said instead of citing a child psychology study he'd once read about the cognitive abilities in kids Andy's age. "He loves you. You're his mother."

"I love him. Thank you," she said.

"Why?"

"Because you helped me get him back."

"I didn't do much except get shot."

"You saved me from myself, which made it possible for me to do what I had to do."

"You're welcome."

The little group sat quietly for a moment, then Georgia said. "I have to go back to Quantico and face the music. Also, New York wants me to debrief with them. I know I promised you dinner, but –"

"You need to get your life together and concentrate on Andy. I understand."

"Yeah, can I take a rain check."

"Sure, if you promise that Andy and I can play hide and seek someday."

Andy nodded his little head. "Want to play, mommy."

"What do we say."

"Please!"

"When Spencer is better."

"Okay!" The adults grinned at Andy's little pout.

"I want to see a magic trick," Georgia said to Spencer.

Reid smiled for her and nodded his assent. He hoped with an intensity he hadn't felt since Maeve's death that this time, love might grow and stay.

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Georgia pulled on her new sports bra and pair of red shorts. She tied the laces of her running shoes and headed out to the gym at Quantico. Her first day back after her suspension and her time in New York needed to start with a vigorous workout and then she'd begin to tackle the paperwork on her desk.

The lights were on in the gym and to her surprise, and delight, a man, stood staring at the treadmills as if deciding where to begin. Georgia understood perfectly because trying to decide where to start that morning had been a challenge.

"I'm glad I decided to have a workout," she said, loudly and nearly laughed when Spencer Reid jumped and turned to glare at her.

His beautiful eyes softened as he gazed at her and something in them made her cheeks warm. "Hello," he said quietly, and her spine tingled.

"Hello, didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay. At least this time, you're speaking to me. Remember the first time we met."

Georgia grinned at him. "I thought you were suffering in some terrible way, and I couldn't think of anything to say because I was suffering too, and I didn't know how to express it."

"I know that now, but at the time I thought you were like all the other beautiful women who take one look at me and decided I'm not interesting."

"Too bad for them. I think you're extremely interesting."

Reid smiled, and shyness took residence in his eyes. "Thank you."

They were quiet for a minute, then Georgia said. "You sure you're okay to work out?"

"I have the all clear from my doctor."

"Good."

"George," he said her nickname for the first time, and it sent shivers down her spine. "I've been thinking about you and Andy. I know you need time to get to know each other again, and he needs time to process losing the only man he knew as his father."

"Don't," Georgia held up a hand. "Don't say that you're going to back off. I know that we need our space, but I don't want to lose something before it begins. I meant what I said in the hospital the other day. I want that dinner with you."

"But?"

"But, I think we need to take it slowly. Why not start with some coffee at the cafeteria after our workout."

"I think that's a great idea."

"I'm happy you agree, because you're a good man, Spencer Reid. I'm not going to let you get away."

"I'm glad you said that because I think you're amazing and I don't want to lose this opportunity. I've spent too much time fearing loss."

"Then I think we should get on with our exercise; then we'll have coffee and muffins before it's time to go back to work."

Reid gestured to the heavy bag. "After you?"

Georgia laughed and said. "I think you should wait a while before tackling your nemesis."

Reid laughed. "Perhaps you're right. I'll go for a run and then we'll see about some light weights."

"You're on."

Reid watched her put on a pair boxing gloves, and for a minute he thought about his attempt that day to force out the pain and self-loathing he'd held onto since prison. Georgia had her son back, and that fact gave him courage that he could face his fears and the demons that followed him from that grim and terrible place. He'd live his life in the light and banish them back to their realm by accepting love from his mother, his team, and perhaps from a beautiful, tough and intelligent woman that accepted him for all his faults.

 ** _THE END_**


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